#not enough hours in the day or energy in my bones lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kitsunesakii · 1 year

Text

For Secret Santa, I am writing for: @nightfrostshadow

Their prompt request is: Villain exhausted mind body everything rip poor dude and then uh hero can catch him easily.. Either hero takes him to uh prison? Or then helps him lol up to the person whether it's angst or fluff

OMG!!!! I had SOOOO much fun writing this!!! Sorry that it's so long 😅 I just couldn't stop!! I hope this is all you wanted!! Merry Christmas!!!!! ❤❤❤

TW: MENTION OF BLOOD, SLIGHT DETAIL OF FLESH WOUNDS, MENTION OF THE WORD DEATH (I think?)

Fluff and stuff

Ignorant to love

*you are ridiculously heavy*

That didn't even rank in the top ten blaring thoughts of the evening. It was the most relevant though.

I hefted his body up the last couple steps of my apartment building.

I tried to ignore the growing pain in my own ribs and I quickly unlocked the door and half laid half dropped him on the couch. And like the blarringly loud alarms going off in my head, I couldn't ignore it much longer.

I took in slow, long breaths, slowly and agonizingly bringing my heartbeat to a normal rhythm.

What an eventful morning. I entered the kitchen and immediately grabbed the first aid kit stashed wisely under the sink, went back to the comatose figure on my couch and lifted his shirt.

Let me backup a few hours. Today I was on shift for the back allies that ran straight into the sewer system. I was supposed to report any activity and keep any of the homeless from killing each other.

I WASN'T supposed to run into Jake, the local, mildly harmless, villain that worked these areas. I say mildly because of the ache in my ribs.

He wasn't expecting to see me, and his usual flirty facade was put on hold while a grumpy, I-obviously-haven't-slept-in-at-least-three-days composure took over. That alone was worrying, he was annoyingly good at keeping composure and shooting face burning remarks easily.

I had clearly interrupted him leaving a fight. His lip was bleeding and the way he held himself suggested at least 1 broken bone. His hair was unusually ragged and his clothes hadn't been ironed, which he usually prided himself on.

It honestly hurt to see him like that. He was never one to ask for help, and the amount of times he ignores his personal health is exhausting to say the least. He had just enough energy to throw a rather crippling punch to my abdomen before he passed out in front of me.

Protocol stated that I had the authority and the Duty to arrest.

That would bring me to now, and the other blaring thought in my head. Because instead of arresting him and calling a medic I've taken him to my house.

*NEGLIGENT OF DUTIES*

*ACCESSORY TO A VILLAIN*

*TRAITOR TO THE HERO COMMITTEE*

I rubbed my eyes, hoping that maybe that will force out the thoughts to make room for something useful.

I pulled off his shirt and examined everything. The minute I saw the damage, the theory that I scared away his attacker seemed more relevant. I couldn't see how he was even standing when I found him. He had bruises in streaks over his chest and around his neck. Small cuts littered his collarbone and one large old gash had reopened and almost split his shoulder.

I planted my hand on his chest tenderly and closed my eyes.

I was considered a healer, but it wasn't that simple. I couldn't force healing on anyone, if they are awake and unwilling then I don't have enough strength to fight them. As well as that, I can only heal internal bleeding and recreate certain bone structure. I can't fix flesh wounds or give people strength, like some of the other healers in my sector.

That didn't take away from my relevance to this situation though.

With my eyes still closed I felt around, mentally healing some internal bleeding while fixing 3 ribs and repairing 1 completely. I felt out this old gash, by the way the stitching was done and the fact that it was healing incorrectly I'd say he was supposed to rest but didn't. I healed most of the internal damage, returning to my med kit and applying bandages over anything that bled. He would hurt like hell when he woke up but he'd be alive.

With the dangerous bit out of the way, I poured a glass of water, crushing up ibuprofen before stirring it in.

Next I finally sat down and attended to my own wound. I don't think he realized but he hit where an old cut was healing, it had ripped, which accounted for most of the pain. I bandaged it up quickly. Looking out across my apartment from the kitchen. Tattered, torn, and bloodied fabric laid in a pile, clothes didn't even describe them anymore. It looked like a crime scene.

*It will be when they arrest me.*

The thought was met with a small grunt. I stood up, grabbing a wet rag and kneeled by the couch.

His features were pale, but still just as nice to look at as before.

"Ick" he flinched, moving his hand to his ribs, I grabbed him before he could ruin his bandages.

"Hay, hay, your alright, don't move, it's me, JJ,"

"JJ? W-what? W-what hap- ppened?"

"Drink this," and before he had enough time to resist I forced the medicine infused water into his mouth. He didn't even open his eyes, just fell back asleep.

I held my breath an extra second before standing up and gathering up the remains of bandages and shredded clothing, laying a blanket over him before entering my bedroom.

*quit pacing*

It had been two hours since I'd broken my vows to the Committee. Since then I called and said that I needed someone to cover the rest of my shift for the week, explaining that I was sick and needed rest. They apologized and even asked if they could send someone over to see if they could help.

Just what I needed, another hero entering my home only to find a badly beaten villain asleep on my couch.

I respectfully declined their offer.

I lapped around the room again. Biting gently on my lower lip. I didn't regret saving him. That wasn't my issue, my issue was the hole I was digging with lying about it. But if I turned him in, yes he would get medical attention, but he would be put in an isolation cell.

The Isolation program was still very politically affected. And many people couldn't decide if it was humane or not. It basically was a 3 course injection that rid you of your power.

I don't think I could bear to see that happen to him. Being broken that badly didn't seem moral to me.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

I ran into the room, visibly relaxing when I saw that he looked just a bit more alive. His pale skin was starting to absorb color, and his eyes were no longer glazed over, he was awake.

"Hey, how do you feel? Do you have a headache?"

"Hmmm, my head feels fine, body feels fine, the only thing I need now is a shirt. Although I'm willing to be swayed on that front."

I laughed, some of my anxiousness fading. His stupid sense of humor was back. "Here," I handed him the glass of water, he hadn't finished it earlier.

He looked at the glass with a raised brow.

"Is it poisoned?"

"Yes. I saved you only to kill you."

His eyes lit up, another good sign, and he took a long swig. "Hmmm, I didn't take you for enjoying that sort of thing, hope it's slow." He winked, followed by a wince and another grab at his ribs.

"Don't touch, don't move, don't speak" I half grumbled that last part, moving into the kitchen, "Are you hungry? I have... " I looked at the empty basket and instead opened the cupboard, also empty.... "I can order something? "

Knock, knock, knock

I nearly jumped into the cupboard door. Running quickly into the living room with a finger to my mouth.

"One second!" I hollered haphazardly at the door. I helped Jake into my bedroom, setting him on the bed before shutting the door, only to answer another.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" I tried to keep my voice light, it came out breathy and raspy instead.

"Hay," the girl at my door was my supervisor, a sweet woman that really needed a haircut. "I heard what happened, are you ok? Do you need anything? Can... I come in?"

I blinked at her, realizing that I was fully blocking the doorway, I eased up.

"Actually I should really get back in bed, I appreciate you coming over to check on me, but I'll be ok, healing just takes time."

"Ok..." Her gaze flicked past me into my apartment, "I won't keep you long I just wanted to let you know that a local assassin came into the E. R. In really bad shape, claiming that he stabbed a villain and that he was stranded by the gutter," She paused, giving me slightly apologetic eyes, "he said that he would have finished him off, but he was cut short when a local hero interrupted him... The description he gave matched yours, and you were shifted in that area... I was just wondering if you saw anything?"

I'm a bad liar, it's why I choose not to most of the time. Hesitating wasn't my best option, but I froze.

*LIAR*

*TRAITOR*

*ACCESSORY TO A VILLAIN*

"No, he might have seen me leave though, I wasn't able to go my full rounds."

She stared at me a moment longer, "Ok, if you see anything in the future feel free to call me."

She left, and I shut the door, entering my apartment. My stomach knotted hard.

I shook it off, entering the bedroom to find that he had settled sitting up on the edge, a tight but tired look in his eye.

"Sooo, are they gonna take me away now?"

"What?"

He stared at me blankly, a small nervous smile peaking on his face.

"I assume they came to pick me up? Orrrrrr....."

"No, She was just checking up on me, but it's not safe for you here, we need to leave."

"Pretty sure that was my stand from the start" He said his words unsurely, a frown expanding in understanding of my words.

I didn't give further explanation, just grabbed my biggest hoodie and threw it in his direction. Packing a small bag and snatching my keys.

I went downstairs first, checking the perimeter to make sure no one was waiting for me. Then I helped him down and into my car. He was unusually quiet, and the moment we were on the road and my senses were more relaxed, I looked over at him.

"Tell me how to get to your place,"

"Keep going straight," was his flat answer.

We drove in silence for a while.

"You winced when helping me to the car."

"I did?" I glanced back at him, he was staring at me. Oh, oh, "yeah, I have an injury on my stomach, I'll be fine."

"I... I remember.... He stabbed me... Then, you were there, I.. I swung at you. Did, did I hurt you?"

The worry in his voice struck hard, "You happened to open a wound that I had previously, it caused more damage than would have if you had struck somewhere else, I'm fine."

"Turn here."

He was quiet for a long while after that, simply giving short instructions until we were at an old, abandoned warehouse at the edge of the city. Trees and foliage covered half if not more of the sides, and broken windows seemed to let in light at all angles.

I parked the car, and for a moment, we sat in simple silence. The only sound was the gentle hum of my car's motor.

"Why are you helping me?"

Great question. I didn't quite know the answer. Yet.

We had always kinda got along. It always seemed as if he knew my schedule, because he would, without fail, make an appearance on my shift. Throwing witty banter and flirty comments at every point. He never really fought either. His power was the ability to control gravity. Which made fighting him extremely hard because he would simply make it so I would float. I secretly loved it, and while I think he had caught on to that, I would never voice it.

Everyone at the hero committee seemed fake. He never did, when he laughed it was genuine, and while I didn't agree with all his morals, he always was set in them. At the Institute it seemed opinions changed based on political structure, a new mayor changed small things. Nothing was ever set in stone. He was real, it was refreshing.

"I couldn't just leave you there."

It surprised me the finality in my own voice. But was that all?

"Yeah... But you could have sent for the others, send me away, I still would have gotten medic."

I didn't answer him. Maybe it was that I didn't want to admit it myself. How terribly scared I had been that he might die. That I might lose something I never had. Maybe that's why I saved him, why I didn't turn him in. Why I lied to my commander. But I wasn't ready to admit that. Small feelings that probably amounted to nothing. That was nothing.

I simply shrugged, helping him out and into the abandoned warehouse.

The inside didn't look any better than outside. The room we entered had no ceiling, the walls were cracked and bruised. The memory of pale blue paint clung weakly to walls and foliage ran wild.

"This definitely isn't a sanitary place for you to heal."

The corners of his mouth quirked into an amused smirk. "Oh come on, how long have you known me?"

He pointed to a door, like the rest of the place looked as if it had seen better days, and together we pushed towards it.

He pushed around some vines, revealing an old button. After a push and a seemingly jumbled sound of clicks the door slid to the side revealing an elevator.

"Just great," I muttered, heaving him into the elevator.

Very quickly I could see that this wasn't an abandoned warehouse. Underneath was a busy and bustling unit. We pushed past groups of people, some busy writing in notebooks or analyzing data on screens while others gave curious glances in our direction.

We nearly ran into a bumbling scientist. She seemed more outraged by his condition than I was. Quickly using some sort of telepathy ro place him on a gurney.

"6 lacerations, at least 3 broken bones! I don't know how you don't have massive blood loss? And I told you to rest! By the looks of this you also ripped your stitches from last time!!"

I walked beside them quietly, too out of my element to try to leave. Combat was never my specialty and some of the people we passed made my stomach knot up.

"You have her to thank for the lack of blood loss." He answered, his voice more bored than worried.

She eyed me, suspicion spiking in her features like an ugly scowl. "And who is she? If she's a heal type why isn't she in proper attire? You know how dangerous bringing people here is??"

"Calm yourself my dead" he huffed, dragging a hand over his bruised face. "She's with me, and she needs medical attention."

I went to protest but was immediately cut off.

"You are definitely top priority-"

"First of all," he sat up, "no, I'm not top priority, while you were all selling information to the bloody informant that tried to kill me, I was being stitched up by this girl, who was probably risking a lot more than I was. Secondly," he turned to me, a slight red formed on the tips of his ears. "She has a badly ripped wound on her side, and she needs anti-inflammatories and some pain medi." He turned back to her, she seemed to shrink at the eye contact. "As for you. You will tag someone in from the institution, since they are the only people I can apparently trust. They will attend to her wounds while we have a talk in my office."

There was an infinite silence, the once loud, obnoxious science girl was mute. Hands balled up and stiff at her side. Features emotionless. Her eyes were the loudest part about her. Without another word she typed in something on her tablet and another science lead took me away for tests.

I looked at my clock. A full 8 hours had gone by since I seemingly ruined my career by helping Jake. At the moment I was in some sort of Infirmary. People were busying themselves everywhere. I needed to get home.

That was my second problem. The door was locked.

When I tried it the first time I just thought I needed someone to open it for me. So I hadn't started panicking, simply asked the nearest person if they could let me out.

It was the fourth time that I realized that I was fully being ignored.

My head was starting to really hurt. Based on the jarble that the doctor relayed back to me, I did in fact lose an unhealthy amount of blood, I would have noticed earlier if my 'fight or flight systems weren't engaged'. I didn't quite understand, but I knew enough to know that resting was smart.

So I watched people exit and enter, huddled up and whispering. Some would look over in my direction with honest curiosity while others couldn't have cared less if I was a unicorn.

After a while the door opened and it was Jake. He looked a lot better, and despite everything, I visibly relaxed at the sight of him.

"Have you even tried to rest?" He stated, noting the monitor at my side, "the whole reason for locking you in here was so that you could rest!!?"

I laughed at that, "how are you feeling? You look much better, looks like someone treated your flesh wounds?"

For a moment he just stared at me. Big, golden, disbelieving eyes. Brown hair pushed back with some sort of hair gel, and dressed in something much more flattering, at least without the bloodstains.

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine, I'm more worried about you, the doctor said you lost a lot of blood? Are you ok to walk? Your welcome to stay here but if your people weren't suspicious you disappearing definitely will be."

"You're the one that should be resting, I can take the bus."

"And risk some stranger realizing how perfectly wonderful you are and taking you for themselves? I could never, let me drive you."

My brain just kinda stopped. I was used to flirty, small compliments and mild suggestions from him. Even small things like brushing my hair out of my face. It was the perfect thing to get me distracted and red.

This hit differently. It felt real, not some silly comment. I felt something... Different.

It brought back his question, 'why are you helping me?'

Maybe....

"Hey? You ok? "

His words reeled me back to the present, I just blinked at him.

"Yeah, yeah, lead the way." I responded dully.

Maybe....

We got to the car, it wasn't mine, but I was sure that mine was probably already back at my place. The silence was thick. A weird haze of emotions that both of us didn't speak of, I wondered what his were?

"Thank you again." He blurted.

"You're welcome."

"I was thinking..." He paused, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him. His knuckles were white. "I was wondering.." He reiterated quietly. "I've known you for a few months now, seen how you react to things, watched you help others... Watched how you avoid war like the plague. Hell," he coughed, his face getting slightly red. "We've even gone to the movies together. Which is great! And I quite enjoy the company! Im just saying.... Well..."

I stared, baffled.

Maybe....

He fell silent, letting his words trail off. We arrived at my apartment complex shortly after.

"Thanks for dropping me off." We both got out, just staring.

Maybe...

"Do you?....." He bit his lip, he was standing almost flush against me.

'Why did you help me?'

Maybe....

His hand brushed my cheek. He dragged in a long breath, a smile burned on his face.

"Do you know why I was at the sewers entrance?"

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to see you." He whispered, his eyes flicking down to my lips, I found myself doing the same.

Maybe...

He leaned in. His lips pressed gently against mine. His hands held my face. He was so stupidly tall. I kissed right back.

Maybe I helped him because... Because I loved him.

32 notes · View notes

anxiousxdreamer · 1 year

Text

I'm pretty sure at the start of this year I said I'd make original posts more. Talk more, here. I think I said something about every day, but that certainly didn't happen. I do know that i DID talk more. I still won't implement a tagging system and I'm still more prone to keeping my- mouth? fingers? shut, but I did talk more. And I'm proud of myself for that. I think I've made a friend even, kinda, possibly. I'll be anxious about defining it that way forever don't mind me. And today I saw an old friend in person for the first time in years. (Her niece is taller than her now, when last i saw her she was probably hip-height on me, which was a HOLY SHIT moment)

I've played more games, I've talked more with my friends, I've wiggled and sang and attended two weddings. One of which I was in the party of, and the bride was an hour late (and in the building itself the whole time too). I'm stimming more, I'm trying to get shit solved with my doctor, I scheduled my top surgery. I still desperately need therapy and all I want is to move out of this damn house, but I guess I didn't sit around doing nothing even if it feels like I'm the same dumb fuck I've always been.

I still feel like a broken, pointless shell of a person. That something is deeply, intrinsically wrong with me and that it'll never be fixed. But I did talk more on tumblr, whatever that means for me lol

I'm ending this year with "The Last Goodbye" from In Space with Markiplier, which was also a thing that happened and it was fantastic and broke my heart.

I'm making my way backwards through the Elder Scrolls games. I finally finished Oblivion and I intend to tackle Morrowind next. Idk how I'm gonna force Daggerfall to work but I will! I have a feeling for both I will be using the Elder Scrolls wiki a LOT

The new year bites me in the ass harder than I think it would if my birthday wasn't the immediate following day. Every new years day is, quite literally, the day of impending "one year older" for me. I don't want to be scared of getting older. Actually I'm not scared of like, aging itself. I think I'll make a funky old man one day. (NOT to say I think I'm getting close to that. I'm turning 24, not 54 XD) I'll have creaky bones and wrinkly skin and hopefully a dick by then but that is still decades away lol and i get so annoyed when people my age are like "i'm so OLD" no tf you're not shut up. anyway-

I'm just... afraid that I'm not changing fast enough. I'm an adult but I'm stuck. I've always been stuck because I keep making stupid fucking choices. At this point it's nobody's fault but my own and I don't know how to fix it because I can't muster the energy to work hard enough to make like, more money. Idk. I'm very tired

Anyway, happy new year, happy almost-birthday to me, I'm off to get "drunk" and eat shrimp

#Dreamer's day #new year #i will not get drunk because i hate the loss of control <3

1 note · View note

namazunomegami · 4 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/namazunomegami/742981942790832128/one-day-ill-present-my-hour-long-dissertation?source=share

I consider Geto to be more like Aizen and Gojo like Urahara, why do you think Geto is like Gin?

Although, I do think if it was Aizen in Geto’s place, he would’ve succeeded with his plans lol. Aizen don’t play like that.

Oh, anon, my love. Brace yourself for my upcoming analysis *cracks knuckles*

Some of the information I have gathered are from the Can’t Fear Your Own World light novels. If you don’t want spoilers, this is your chance to stop reading this post!!

Well, I can understand why people associate Aizen with Geto. I get it, both are powerful, inherently manipulative handsome blorbo materials with an evil plan… but…

Let me propose an idea for you, my dear. What if we start viewing Kenjaku as Aizen’s counterpart?

Both of their past is shrouded in mystery. We may never know why, when, and how they started their journey towards evil (unlike Gin and Geto but I'm gonna get back to this later). What we do know that they’re kinda… evil for the sake of evil (it’s a recurring thing in the main villains of Bleach, it gets repetitive after some arcs but minor antagonists are more fleshed out in that aspect).

Another obvious parallel: both Aizen and Kenjaku directly created the MC of their plot. Aizen with his Hollowfication fuckery with White and Kenny with... well, getting the backshots.

Absorption as a recurring metaphor: Aizen’s Hogyoku absorbs spiritual energy so Aizen can fuse it with himself later on to be an almost godlike being, Kenjaku absorbs power through their and Geto’s curse technique. It was a gamechanging moment when they absorbed Mahito and extracted his technique and when they absorbed Tengen.

And if I mention Tengen…

Their plans have something to do with an ancient powerful lifeform. In CFYOW, it is revealed that Aizen wanted to get rid of the Soul King and in the TYBW arc, the Royal Guards state that in order to make it happen, he needed to create an Oken, a key to the royal palace. The only way to have access to the Oken is if you acquire the bones from one of the Squad 0 members. And as we know, the Royal Guards are extremely ancient beings who created anything that Shinigami use to this day. I think Aizen wanted to aquire enough power with the Hogyoku to later kill the Royal Guards and use their bones to get into the royal palace.

Kenjaku has an old connection to Tengen, and since she had no vessel to merge with because Amanai was killed, her evolution can be used for Kenny’s plans, which is to merge humanity with Tengen for the sake of… utter curiosity.

So, both of their plans have something to do with creating a sort of primordial chaos. If Aizen succeeded, killing the Soul King would disrupt the balance of the whole universe. Balance between the World of the Living, Soul Society and Hueco Mundo is a key concept throughout Bleach. If the souls between the worlds are out of balance, the worlds will collide on each other. And before the Soul King’s creation, the world was in this inherently chaotic state.

Let’s stick to the plans a little bit more…

Aizen and Kenjaku has a solid plan. They’re crazily prepared, literally nothing can hinder their endeavor because they have subplans and other infuriating fuckery. Everything you do is going to move their plan forward.

And I think Geto has no well developed plan to genocide the non-sorcerers. It’s a headcannon of mine so take it with a grain of salt, but I believe that he has absolutely no idea how he’s going to make this plan work. Deep down I think he knows what he wants is impossible. Maybe he got burnt out during those 10 years and declares war for the sake of Jujutsu High finally killing him. He lost all his hope, killing him is mercy.

Aizen’s and Kenjaku’s plan has no emotional connotation. They’re pragmatists. They don’t want revenge, they're not evil to protect someone. Geto on the other hand has a very idealistic plan, it comes from emotion, selfishness. His main goal is not really genocide but to create a safe world for his loved ones.

And that’s when Gin comes into picture.

But before, let me talk about god complex.

Aizen obviously has one, he wants power equal to the Soul King, he kinda achieves it and he wants to replace the Soul King to control all beings in the world of Bleach. Aizen is dependent on his control, he must always have the upper hand in whatever situation he’s in. Even in Muken! And sometimes I hear fans saying that Geto has a god complex too. But I respectfully disagree with that statement.

What Geto has is a superiority complex. He wants to annihilate non-sorcerers and that’s it. He doesn’t want to lead the remaining sorcerers, he just wants them to be safe. It all stems from his traumas and downward spiral from Hidden Inventory and his beliefs that sorcerers are inherently better because they can’t create curses. He poses as a godly figure and is frequently depicted by Gege as Buddha but for me it’s not enough for a god complex. It’s just superiority. It’s basically the same thought process behind totalitarian regimes and other supremacy groups.

Plus, when Ichigo fights with Aizen who absorbed the Hogyoku, he senses a kind of loneliness from his sword. Isolation. An isolation that comes from him not having an equal in terms of power. It is a theme that I can associate more with Gojo rather than Geto.

But Gin… Oh, my sweet tragic man… how much I love him it's sickening...

The most obvious parallel between Gin and Geto is that they’re both doomed by the narrative. They can never succeed. They both die before accomplishing anything meaningful. They kinda need to, there’s no other possibility for them to live.

Gin’s plan is to get revenge on Aizen violating Rangiku, the only person he genuinely cares for and dedicated his whole life to protect. And besides being a mass murdering maniac, Geto wants an indirect revenge on non-sorcerers because in his twisted little mind, they killed Amanai, they killed Haibara, exploited him and Gojo by curses continuously popping up and they abused Mimiko and Nanako. Very emotionally driven plans and it all comes down to committing evil deeds for the sake of caring.

Gin and Geto come from literal nothing. Gin was a wandering soul in Rukongai, he spent a good chunk of his life in absolute poverty. Being a resident of Rukongai is basically means being the underbelly of society and Shinigami and other figures of political power do not care about them in the slightest. Geto’s parents are non-sorcerers. He has no fancy name, no fancy bloodline, no status in jujutsu society besides him being special grade from the moment he was scouted.

What they both have is talent, dedication, hard work. They’re perceptive, street smart. They both like toying with people they deem as inferior (and ofc they do it with a nice lil smile on their faces). And if I really want to force any similarity out, they both use polite speech.

And their defection has an emotional impact.

Aizen’s treachery is more like treason against society. Order. Status quo. Besides Hinamori nobody is hurt, they’re afraid, furious, disappointed. And you, as the viewer are rather shocked than sad, because you would have never guessed this plot twist. Gin’s and ofc Tosen’s treachery are treason against the people they love. In Geto’s case I think it’s a bit of both, but the latter aspect gets more focus.

When Gin leaves Soul Society Rangiku is a mess, Izuru is a mess because they both loved and trusted him. Izuru literally adored Gin as his captain. When Geto leaves Gojo is a mess and that’s the point I’m gonna catch Gege because we don’t see the reaction of the rest of Jujutsu High! It is not only Gojo who is hurt by Geto’s actions! Shoko, Nanami, Yaga lost him too and we have no idea how they handled the loss!

And now let’s talk about their failure.

Gin fails killing Aizen. Despite all the years he has spent with gaining his trust, he remained completely expendable for Aizen. And when he’s fused with the Hogyoku, Gin has no choice but to sacrifice himself. Gin recognizes his own failure, that he couldn’t avenge Rangiku and get back what she’s lost but at least he could apologize to her.

And after reading CFYOW it gets even more tragic. Rangiku had a particle of the Soul King. And even a mere nail of him means unimaginable spiritual power. Rangiku could have been a powerful Shinigami with enormous potential! And then Aizen took this particle from her, forever hindering her abilities, forever damaging her connection to the spirit of her zanpakuto. Of course Gin went crazy, and his only resolution was revenge.

And I think Gin is doomed because he waits for too long to kill him. He already knew the weakness of Kyoka Suigetsu’s hypnosis since he was a child. But he was waiting. Waiting until it was too late to accomplish anything.

And Geto fails killing all the non-sorcerers. He can’t create a safe world for his loved ones because his plan is inherently impossible to achieve. Though it’s not an apology, but he can tell Gojo that he never had any ill will towards Jujutsu High. Everything he did was for their sake. But he just couldn’t keep living in a world that has wronged him so hard that he can’t find anything that makes him happy.

And they both get to show a secret ultimate technique before their deaths. Gin has the "Kill, Kamishini no Yari" command he uses to poison Aizen and Geto has the Maximum technique Uzumaki.

And now another reason I’m gonna kick Gege in the butt.

Gin’s death has no impact on the plot itself but has an impact on the characters. We see Rangiku breaking down, ugly crying right before Aizen and Ichigo as she’s kneeling right next to his dead body and later in the next arc she reflects on how she deals with the grief.

Geto is the opposite.

His death has an impact on the plot. Kenny arrives, takes possession of his body and cursed technique, Rika’s curse is finally lifted, and she can pass on to the afterlife giving chance for Yuuta to carry on with his life. He can finally connect to people, make friends, an opportunity that he was robbed off since Rika’s death and him accidently cursing her.

But it has no impact on the characters. Gojo goes back to being goofy, there’s literally no signs of him being absolutely devastated for killing his only best friend. The only thing we got was the minutes long PTSD flashback before he gets sealed. I mean, it’s still something but it focuses on the past, when Geto was alive, a bit of hope that he was brought back but we have no immediate reaction of his death. And again, my problem with Gege that we get nothing from the other characters despite they lost him too. Like Mimiko and Nanako literally lost their father figure! And my poor girl Shoko… And you know… the whole plothole of what happened to Geto’s body after he was killed. Did Gojo just left him there or what? How could the brain worm crawl themself into him?

I guess that’s it. Sorry it got a bit long. Yeah, I think in terms of characterization and overall plot elements, Geto is the counterpart of Gin rather then Aizen. But I do believe that Gojo has a bit of Urahara in him, you’re right!

And again, thank u for letting me ramble about this stuff, probably gonna go back to edit some additional thoughts bc... i just know myself. Take care anon <33

#analysis post #jjk #bleach #i should shut up for today #asks

1 note · View note

icewindandboringhorror · 1 year

Text

Daily Log 6

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: I always basically need a 'recovery day' after running errands or anything, so.. not very productive, relatively boring day, very sleepy and headachy lol..

Went to the store to pick up something essential that I forgot the day before. Also tried out a new boardgame/cardgame thing just to test the rules/see if I'd like to play it with people in the future.

Played a few of the wii sports resort and wii fit games (which I do every weekend lol.. my weekly Wii check in... I still love the wii so much even though it's an obsolete console to everyone or whatever hghj... shout out to anyone still actively playing the nintendo Wii). Though I cut it short and didn't do dancing games or anything all that active, since I felt so tired and sick-ish. TpT

The most productive things were watering some plants, and also cooking and doing a lot of food prep. I love chopping cabbage into really thin stringy ribbon slices, it's kind of mesmerizing to see how small and even you can get it. If I had enough social energy to have a group chat or something I would always be texting stuff like ''sliced up a cabbage today....... effervescent''.

Did a few maintenance tasks (clearing out online notifications, deleting spam emails, wrote out my weekly plan and to-do list/main goals for the upcoming week and organized a few papers, etc.)

Honestly the rest of the day I was just in a sleepy haze, or actually napping (fell asleep at my desk whilst trying to work on the tapestry translations lol), etc. Still very worldbuilding inspired and thinking about a lot of stories and ideas at once but sadly my physical energy does not match the energy in my brain.

Cutting cabbage today made me think of bligabata (one of the staples of the Avirre'thel diet, basically giant cabbages that grow along streams). I miss doing little posts like that. It's just hard to work in alongside bigger/longer term projects like the worldbuilding slideshow and games and stuff.

Notable sights: A very large bird perched on a comically tiny wobbling branch at the very top of a tree that looks like it wouldn't hold it's weight. Watched a squirrel pick through the grass under the spotty shade of a tree, it looked like it was leaping through little shapes in the shadows. Saw a different bird fly into a hole in a building next to a gutter and then heard a chorus of tiny little cheepy noises, so it might have been a parent bringing food to it's children. I've seen some bird eggs on the ground the past few weeks, perhaps babies are hatching. Came across the discarded bone of an eaten chicken wing laying in the middle of a sidewalk, an omen of the universe mocking me for my recent anemia fueled chicken wing cravings.

Goals moving forward: Focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Plant nasturtiums!!! Finish and upload videos, edit costume pictures & etc. Do the new costumes I've planned. MAKE SCULPTURES at some point, I miss them.

Notable foods: Made kale chips. Also fish tacos, which included making a cabbage slaw and some pico de gallo. Had more asparagus too. >:3 A good day in terms of having foods that are actually somewhat enjoyable, though I think laboring for them sometimes makes them less good lol, like.. spending a hour on prep work and then having to clean up everything and feeling sick afterwards from being in a warm kitchen etc. - in return for maybe 20 minutes of eating..? The cost benefit analysis doesn't always work out in my head. Oh, also had one of my reserve cans of gingerale that I mostly just keep in case of stomach aches, but just had it as a treat because I was feeling overheated.. crispy ice cold ginger ale.. still an unbeatable experience.. .. pretending I am in the arctic instead of in doo doo stink usa where we have 85F days and heatwaves in spring and fires and shit every summer... icy icey, i am snow.. eooughhh

#just posting these publicly since it feels more like I'm doing something or easier to hold yourself accountable if you make public #declarations of goals and progress or etc. .. perhaps.. for now.#stinky stinky sleepy day #also don't even have the energy to type many tags. it is what it is lol #I started getting nervous about nothing around bed time (like just random bouts of anxiety with no specific cause or reason #. maybe reacting to caffiene in something I ate or etc.) so pacing around nervously drained my energy even more lol #daily log

1 note · View note

julialouisdreyfest · 2 years

Text

Idaho Green Interview

First off: ASL?

Austin: Idaho Green- 14 years old (oof), technically I guess gender fluid, and normally would say Brooklyn, but I think technically Caleb lives in Queens now! So I guess I'll just say New York. Originally from Huntley Project Montana.

Jordan: 43, yes please, in my parent's living room but living in the Big Apple where not having anxiety when you go outside is a win

Secondly: How bout them Mets?

Austin: This could be a big year! All the pieces are there, and they've been put together, it's just a matter of keeping them in place! Plus the playoffs are just always weird- anything where you have to win more than you lose, three times in a row will require luck, no matter how good you are. But I suppose having Jacob deGrom and Max Scherzer start your first two games helps lol.

Jordan: I might have lost $150 in sports betting but they got me through last year and they'll get me through this one. R e s p e c t t h e p o l a r b e a r

I was about to make a cheeky joke about the high cost of living in some parts of Brooklyn, where you all currently live, but it’s turning out to be pretty comparable to places like Bozeman these days so, there’s not much to say. Aside from the obvious population difference, how do crowds at shows in NYC compare to those in Billy? Anything about playing in Billings you prefer over the Big App, or vice versa?

Austin: it's hard to say now, because since we only come back every once in a while, Billings shows are kind of objectively cooler and more fun to play than NYC shows, which is super cool that people still come out and give a shit about us! But when I used to live in Billings, and we were doing shows on like a monthly/bi-weekly basis, and the turnout was iffy, that sorta got frustrating. And when that same thing happens in New York, it's less depressing, on like an existential level. Like, the idea of simply surviving in New York feels like a success, which, being a relatively easy thing to accomplish on a day to day basis, makes you feel more successful on a day to day basis. Unless of course, you die.

Jordan: Honestly, I've come out the other side with NYC shows. At first I hated how nobody will mosh or dance but once you get over how it's a rarity you understand that people can be into your band and literally just stand there. Even then - I've been in some pretty fun pits in Brooklyn! But Billings shows are almost always more fun than some shitty New York rock club.

Since the lineup’s been a bit of a revolving door over the years, could you tell us the current lineup/who will be playing at the fest this year?

Austin: great question! outside of Me, Jordan, Caleb and Pete, Ty will be joining us. And then I'm sure more folks will be a part of the show, but that will probably get decided a few days/hours/minutes before the actual show. We'll see!

The "Idaho Green Fambly (sic) Band" has been around for about 14 years now, yeah? How does it feel? How much longer can you go? Can we count on seeing Idaho Green open for John Cougar Mellencamp at the MetraPark Arena a couple of decades from now? How do you keep things fresh after all these years?

Austin: "You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain" - Neil Young

Jordan: Never tell me the odds

Please forgive the pedestrian question, but what are your top five biggest influences? Musically or otherwise.

Austin: The 2002 Anaheim Angels, my roomate's cat, Pocket, and Travis, Walt, and Hunter from Paris, Texas

Jordan: "I Think you Should Leave," '60s and '00s Garage rock, the feeling when someone says something that's bullshit but you don't correct them, GBV, massive amounts of anxiety without an available release valve.

Let’s do a few rounds of kiss, marry, kill:

-Rancher Bones, Uffdahd, Body Language

Austin: Kill Rancher Bones- it's long and I'm always afraid of fucking up the riff part. Fuck Uffdahd, it's got that kind of energy I guess, at least of those three, and marry Body Language since it's a perfect song.

Jordan: "Kiss" Rancher Bones, kill "Uffhdahd" because you made me do this you sick bastard, marry "Body Language" so sexy

-Gallatin river, Madison river, Jefferson river

Austin: I am ashamed to say I have never fished any of these three or the Missouri! so they are all kind of the same to me

-George, Jerry, Newman

Austin: You have to kill Newman. George would be miserable to be married to so I will fuck him. Marry Jerry for his money.

Jordan: Marry Jerry (even though he'd cheat on me my whole life), kill Newman (cause I'd rather "kiss" George), "kiss" George because you made me do this you sick bastard. Do you know how awkward/funny he would be about being forced to have to "kiss" a man. Like the best unreleased Seinfeld episode of all time.

One more game: You're stranded on a deserted island, and you can only keep three tools in your dad's truck. Which tools do you bring?

Austin: Oh damn this is a good one! Hmmm... trying to think of things that would be 1. necessary on a desert island, and 2. difficult to replicate with the resources available. One would be needle nose pliers- being able to grip things, big and small, as well as a half weapon...I'm tempted to say "hammer" or something but honestly, if I'm using my dad's tool box in his truck- I know he has like 50 feet of vinyl rope and a roll of gorilla tape, and I think those would be more valuable than any other traditional tool one would find in their dad's truck.

Jordan: A leatherman (cause duh), Ty Herman, a tool shaped like a fully-functioning airplane that Ty and I can ride in.

It looks like you’ll be going on a little tour with Scuba Steve & the Sharks following Dreyfest to hit some other MT tour destinations like Missoula, Bozeman and… oh, does that say Havre, the crown jewel of the Hi-Line?… and Whitehall, whose population just reached 1k?… You know, you don’t need to make up a whole tour to get your friends to go to the Lewis & Clark Caverns or Buffalo jump museum with you. You can just ASK!

Austin: We were actually thinking about going to the Lewis & Clark Caverns! I have never been (have heard mixed reviews from everyone that's checked it out tbh) and if the Whitehall show falls through (I wrote to the city but have not received a reply) I was thinking of finally checking it out.

Favorite thing about leaving the city/returning to Billings?

Austin: watering the tomato plants at my parent's house

Favorite thing about leaving Billings/returning to the city?

Austin: watering the tomato plants on the roof at my apartment

Jordan: taking all of the things I bought without a sales tax back to Brandon's America.

Do you have a favorite memory from past Dreyfestestes?

Austin: I think in 2015 I was living with Caleb at his dad's house and on the morning after day 1, I think I woke up to David from WhiteCatPink in the living room playing the bagpipes, with somebody's dog sitting in the living room just kind of standing right in front of him, watching/listening. Just a totally normal, empty living room, and WhiteCatPink playing the bagpipes and a random dog hanging out.

Jordan: Watching Noise Noise Noise's last ever set and seeing Kelly throw his guitar across the stage in such a way to have it spin and perfectly bounce against an amp. The sound of that guitar bouncing off that amp is the purest distillation of rock and roll.

What is New York’s hottest club right now?

Austin: I know the answer for this one- New York’s hottest club is RASH. Located in the produce aisle of a Bushwick Foodtown grocery store, this nightlife hotspot is the creation of senicidal cokehead Andrew Blowmo. This place has everything- gauze, lumps, derelicts, Julia Salazar, A CITI BIKE THAT JUST WON'T LOCK. And look over there- is that Brandon Nimmo? No, it’s just a Honduran woman with a handicart selling bags of sliced fruit.

Jordan: Either Austin's roof or Austin's bathroom

You guys put out Rancher Bones close to four years ago now. Got anything else cookin’ for us hungry, hungry hippos?

Austin: Yes! We recorded some ~new~ songs with Hunter Davidsohn just a few weeks ago- hoping to get those puppies mixed and matched and mastered and plastered and laquered on wax as a 7 inch by the end of the year. Then we're thinking of finally releasing the literal dozens of songs we've recorded over the past 10+ years that have never seen the light of day (if we can find them lol).

You can catch Idaho Green during this year's fest at Nova Center on August 6th at 11pm.

SEE YOU IN THE PIT!

#idahogreenband #billingsmontana #dreyfest #julialouisdreyfest #jldviii

0 notes

jackrrabbit · 3 years

Text

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

2K notes · View notes

the-final-sif · 2 years

Note

I have ideas for a fic in the convict childcare au, but know about as much as Sam on how toddlers work lol. Thankfully I do have a friend who works with little kids so they should prepare to be bombarded with questions like, how often do toddlers need to bathe and how long should nap time be, all while I’m being extremely dodgy on why I need to know these things because they know nothing about Dream smp and I don’t think I can explain that it’s for a zombie pig child who’s under the (originally) forced care of a manipulative control freak who’s just trying his best

If you end up writing anything absolutely send it to me, I love seeing stuff other people create in my aus.

As for how toddlers work, I actually know a decent bit about them from a lot of babysitting. I think the biggest thing for Michael is that he won't match up with a normal child right away due to the zombification thing.

After XD heals Michael he's got his left ear back (although it's weaker than his right) and no exposed bone. He's still missing an eye, and he's got very limited muscle tissue under there. It's mostly scar and fat to keep the bones safe. All of this is a lot for his body to adjust and reintegrate, so he needs time to recover.

So for the first month or so, Michael is going to be a very sleepy baby. He takes longer naps, and when he is awake he's more limited in his activities. c!Dream has to work with him on recovering mobility in his hands to teach him sign during this period, and that along with basic child care takes up a lot of his waking hours. After that month Michael gets back up towards normal activity levels, sleeping around 14 hours a day (12 hour nights and a 2 hour nap). Sometimes longer if he's feeling rough.

For baths, nether babies do not need baths as often as human babies do! Naturally, Michael would only take a water bath every month or so, and use dust baths during that month. Due to his weaker skin and the higher danger posed by infection, dust baths actually aren't super safe for him, and there's none in the cell. Dream compromises by only making him take a proper bath once a weak and just wiping down his scar tissue every day. Michael starts out pretty fussy about baths once he has the energy to be fussy, but grows to enjoy them given time. It helps that the bathtub is a safe place for him.

The other stable parts of their routine are that they eat two meals a day, because that's when c!Sam brings food by. Dream hoards some stable food away as soon as he can do so safely, and every so often when Sam forgets to feed them or doesn't feed them enough he gets Michael something from there. They also have toothbrushes, and Dream is very good about getting Michael to brush his teeth twice a day (something Michael hadn't done before because back w/c!Tubbo and c!Ranboo his mouth/teeth were so fucked up from zombification that it did more harm than good). And usually when Sam is coming by in the evening, Dream will put Michael away in the tub since that's when Sam is most likely to be in a bad mood.

Besides that, their normal activities consist of Dream teaching Michael sign (when both their hands are working well enough for it), reading to Michael, teaching Michael to read, exercising together as best they can to regain some muscle mass (mostly for Michael, Dream isn't eating enough to be able to put on any muscle), playing invented games, and generally learning about each other.

#dreamwastaken #c!dream #michael beloved #michael_beloved #dsmp #dream smp #my headcanons #convict childcare au #sif speaks #ender dragon dream #step-back-apple-jack #sif answers #c!sam #c!awesamdude

163 notes · View notes

wtf-yoongi · 3 years

Text

Let me drive. / JJK

pairing | jungkook x reader

summary | road trip + california + your koo 🥺

genre/warnings | fluff + light smut + established relationship + kinda shy/quiet jungkook

words | 3,522

note | okay so i had this idea almost a year ago and wrote around 5 versions of this since then lol i guess the stuff i write is *already* very chill but i have to say this is the chillest

If you could, you’d freeze this moment. This very moment. Right here, right now. Just as the wind blows on your hair, just as everything around you smells like sand and the sea, just as Jungkook’s smooth driving lulls you to sleep.

You look at him then. Focused on the curves of the road, a small crease in between his eyebrows as he is forced to make a particularly sharp turn. You twist again to look outside the half-opened window and all you can see are the waves coming and going, somehow closer when the car shifts — and it calms you even further.

It’s hard to fight the heaviness of your eyelids, but you’re determined not to miss any second of this. Everything looks perfect, all around you — you can’t take it for granted. You should cherish it, imprint this in your memory, take pictures with Jungkook’s camera now that he’s busy driving and can’t do it himself. It’s within arm’s reach, but you can’t find it in you to grab it.

“You should take a nap,” Jungkook says with an unusual air in his voice. It is deep, but dreamy, and you wonder if you’ve actually fallen asleep. His right hand leaves the steering wheel to lightly touch your thigh. “You didn’t have enough sleep last night.”

“You’ve had just as much as me,” you protest, turning your body to seat properly again and blinking a few times to wake up, eyes opening as wide as possible in between each of them. “Do you think we can stop for a coffee somewhere? I bet you need it too.”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s what you always say.”

You end up convincing Jungkook you should stop somewhere, even if that somewhere is the nearest underwhelming gas station. He takes the opportunity to fill up the tank, later going inside to join you and look for the most appetizing caffeinated drink. It’s not his favorite, and neither is the one in your hands, but it’ll do for now. You take the can out of his long fingers to pay before he has a chance to protest.

“How far away are we now?”

Jungkook’s head tilts as he follows you outside, eyes wrinkling while his brain tries to remember what the GPS said before. “Not much, really. Maybe a little bit over half an hour.”

“Let me drive, then.”

He throws you the keys without thinking twice, but mostly because you know Jungkook wants to take pictures of the road — he’s never been good at hiding things and, with you in particular, there’s no point in trying anymore. He’s been driving since you left this morning and you wonder if you should’ve taken over after Pismo Beach.

Maybe you should have. He looks perfectly content as he sits on the passenger’s side and reaches for the camera not a heartbeat after putting on his seatbelt. That’s when you know you should’ve said something earlier — he’s not going to ask you to drive if he can keep going. It’s the way Jungkook’s mind works: selfless all the time.

That thought melts as soon as you look to your right and he’s pointing the camera at you, bright smile only partially covered by the device in his hands as you hear the shutter. For a second, all you can see is him. Suddenly, all you care about in the world is how you can make that smile last longer.

Is it too greedy to want it forever?

The rest of the way to Santa Barbara goes as smoothly as possible. Jungkook is right — it does take a little bit over half an hour to get there and you’re glad it’s early enough for you to explore the city tonight. As you cross what seems to be the main road, filled with life, shops and pretty lights, you and Jungkook make a silent agreement to come back as soon as you drop the bags in the house you’re staying in.

To be honest, Jungkook was excessive when he chose the place. He said he wanted it to be close to the beach, with a pool he could swim in at two in the morning if he wanted to — oh, yes, and private. He repeated that at least three times while you were researching. In the end, the house isn’t as close to the beach as he wished it to be, but he agreed the pool was worth it.

When you land your eyes on it for the first time, you’re sure Jungkook made the right call.

There’s a host there to welcome you and you follow Mrs. Johnson around as she shows you all the little corners of the house. She is surprised to know only two guests are staying when the house could easily fit six, but nods with a warm smile when you mention the pool situation and the way Jungkook’s eyes lighted up when he saw the pictures. You also can’t miss the way he tries to hide himself behind you when you say that or the hand that travels down to your waist. You couldn’t see him, but you bet a thousand dollars a shy smile is in full display — dimples and all.

It only takes a few minutes for you to drag your bags inside, drink a cup of water and leave again. The house isn’t very far from the main road you’ve seen earlier and a walk after a few hours of sitting inside a car sounded like a great idea. Just before leaving, you playfully pull Jungkook’s bucket hat further down as he sits his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Then, again, you wish you could freeze the moment, but only if you could attach an audio file with his giggle and that playful stop it with it.

There’s a comfortable warmth from all around you as you walk. The breeze is hot and, although the temperature is bearable, Jungkook’s hand in yours becomes clammy in under five minutes — not that it is enough reason to let it go, it’s just not the most comfortable and definitely not as pleasant as the feeling of his hands intertwined with yours midwinter.

You can tell Jungkook is excited. His feet are light on the scolding asphalt and he’s paying extra attention to every detail his doe-like eyes are able to reach — almost as if he’s also looking to imprint this moment in his brain. In fact, he could be getting help with that by taking pictures, but decides to leave the camera hanging by its strap on his waist for reasons you don’t quite understand. You also don’t ask, too happy to raise questions about anything.

There’s something about this city that makes you feel welcomed. It’s much like the charming towns you’ve visited along the coast ever since leaving the busy San Francisco a couple of days ago, but there’s something particularly special about it. You were expecting it to be filled with tourists enjoying their summer day, streets buzzing with cars and no available parking spots whatsoever only to be met by a steady rhythm of people walking, chatting and passing you by without a second glance. It’s less busy and more easygoing than you anticipated.

Jungkook also seems to notice that.

“I like it here,” he says, echoing your thoughts with ease. Jungkook’s head turns all around, taking it all in before landing his curious eyes on you. “I think this one is my favorite so far.”

You can’t help the snort that leaves your nose. “You’ve said that for every place we’ve been to.”

“Well, every place has been better than the last. What do you want me to say?”

Just as the words leave his lips, the elegant lamps lining the sidewalk come to life. You notice you’re not the only ones with chins up and surprised eyes — suddenly, you can point to every tourist standing within this block as locals move on with their lives as if nothing happened.

“Honestly, how can this not be my favorite so far?” Jungkook asks rhetorically, finally letting go of your hand to reach for his camera. He turns it on without even looking at the device, snapping picture after picture until he’s satisfied with the framing and lighting. “These lights are so pretty…” He comments as he checks his viewfinder. “Let me take one of you just standing there.”

He takes a few steps back to fit you in frame and you hear the shutter many times before he’s back by your side.

“Why don’t we get something to eat?” He suggests, quick to take your hand again as soon as the camera is back to its original place.

“That’d be nice. Craving anything in particular?”

“Food,” he answers simply and with a smile. “Anything you want.”

You end up inside a diner eight minutes from where you were. The reviews online were great and you can see the place is popular by the amount of people sitting when it’s still so early in the night. The sun hasn’t completely set, but you can already feel the temperature drop a little — not too much, you think, to forgo the pool later.

Jungkook eats like he’s been starving the whole day. One entrée isn’t enough for him, so he orders two and you feel like you should save some room for the burger coming in later. His fingers are greasy from all the fried chicken, so are his lips, and you can’t help but smiling fondly at him when he looks up from the bone he just sucked on.

Right then, you wonder how in the world you ended up with him on the other side of the planet — the odds were never in your favor, but everything worked out somehow.

Ending up on the other side of the planet was the easy part.

The walk back to the house seems longer. Maybe it’s the weight of all the food in your stomach, maybe you’re finally feeling the need to rest after another busy day driving and seeing new places — maybe it’s both. Jungkook seems to feel it too, lazily swaying your connected (thoroughly cleaned) hands, dragging his feet and showing signs of running low on energy. For a moment, you think it’s possible he forgets about the pool and decides to just go to bed.

However tired, his eyes light up when he sees the pool area like it’s the first time and you have to admit it looks incredible. The water is so still it doesn’t look real and small decorative lamps illuminate it all around, creating a peaceful and inviting atmosphere. You can see how spent Jungkook is by the way his shoulders seem to be leaning forward a bit, but, still, he’s taking off his shirt and mumbling something about changing into a different pair of shorts.

Maybe he’s right. A quick dip in the water might just be the thing to relax your body and prepare it for the best sleep of your life.

Jungkook is already in the water when you come back in a bikini — with his back pressed to the pool, head resting on the edge and hair a wet mess. His eyes may be barely open, but he still sees you and raises a lazy hand out of the water to invite you in.

“It’s surprisingly not cold,” he assures you, a comforting smile on his lips. “Also, it’s not as deep, I’m just not really standing properly.”

A giggle leaves your lips as you move to sit on the edge right next to where he is, carefully letting a foot in to surprisingly — as Jungkook said — not immediately remove it because it’s too cold. You just wanted to sit there for a while getting used to the temperature before committing to a full dip, but he’s not having it.

“Come on,” Jungkook whines a little, clinging onto one of your legs. “We don’t have much time before I fall asleep in the water and drown.” He snorts and you can’t help falling for his shy smile. “I want to hold you in the water while we look at the stars together.”

“We can do that tomorrow if you want,” you suggest, trying not to let his words melt you completely while you move to fix a wet strand of hair in front of his eyes. “We’re staying here for one more night.”

However, in true Jungkook fashion, he doesn’t give up. “But I want it right now.”

And, in true you fashion, you give in to him.

The next morning, you wake up with a heavy and warm arm on top of your frame. The heat from Jungkook’s body on your back becomes too much as the hours pass and the room gets hit by an increasingly hotter sun. Unfortunately, it seems like your brain can’t get your limbs to move away from him without regaining consciousness.

It’s past 9 in the morning by the time you stretch an arm towards your phone. Groaning, you try reaching out for the air conditioner remote, but it’s maybe an inch too far. Before you can wiggle out of his grasp, though, you hear a low objection, grunt muffled by your own hair and skin.

Softly, you mutter a few words. “Just a second, Guk, I really need to get that.”

Subconsciously or not, Jungkook eases the grip he has around your middle and you’re finally able to hold the remote in your hands, lowering the temperature and increasing the speed. After the few beeps, a minute passes and you’re taking a deep breath, happy to feel the cool air around your limbs.

“You’re shivering now,” he says, surprising you after a long and comfortable silence. Blindly, he feels around for the white sheets, fixing them on your torso all the way to your chin.

“I’m not shivering,” you assure him, uncovering an arm in a stubborn act. “I have a t-shirt on, it’s fine.”

He hums. “I’ll have you out of that in around thirty minutes. Don’t count on it too much.”

You smile, turning to him, but Jungkook still has his eyes closed. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“I told you: thirty minutes. Don’t rush, we’re on vacation,” he justifies himself, words lazy just like the smirk that appears on his lips. “Let me wake up properly.”

True to his words, you both rest for a little while before Jungkook starts making his move. You would’ve guessed he had fallen back to sleep from how steadily he was breathing just a few seconds ago, but you couldn’t have been more wrong — not when his lips are connected to the column of your throat and you begin to feel the weight of his body on your left side.

Suddenly, your whole world is surrounded by him. All you can feel, see and smell is made of Jungkook, from his hair tickling your face to the firm hand wandering around like it’s discovering your body for the first time. You sigh and moan a little when he marks you particularly hard or when his right hand moves to place your leg around his waist and you just know he’s satisfied. Jungkook lives for that, for knowing he does that to you.

There’s a light and soft laugh coming out of his lips before he turns to the other side of your neck, head stopping midway to plant a chaste and quiet kiss on your lips.

“Promise me we’ll stay inside the whole day.” He’s just slightly out of breath, a feat that doesn’t go unnoticed by you — not after he’s taken care of your left side like that. He’s always so dedicated. “I really don’t want to get out of the house.”

“If you don’t want to.” The words would be perfectly accompanied by a shrug, but his body weight doesn’t let you. It’s just the right amount of pressure to feel him everywhere and, if you paid enough attention, you’d be able to sense his quick heartbeats too. “Yeah, we can stay in.”

“Good.”

You can see his eyes sparkle before he’s too close to focus, head dipping in to take your lips again. This time, however, the kiss is far from pure, delicately but firmly moving to open up your mouth and work restlessly until you’re completely out of breath.

You don’t know exactly when he starts slowly motioning his hips forward, senses overloaded with him everywhere, but you can feel your whole body respond to it. When you sigh yet again and his name comes out in a whimper, hand gripping his neck like your life depends on it, he knows.

“Let’s get you out of this,” he suggests, now a little bit past slightly out of breath as he proceeds to lift the t-shirt up and up until it’s free and thrown somewhere.

You couldn’t check the time then, but, if you could, you’d notice exactly thirty one minutes have passed.

“Have you even applied any sunscreen?” You call out from the inside of the house, holding a simple and delicious cup of cold water in your hands.

When you’re thirsty, everything will taste incredible.

“No!” He simply answers, ridding his hair of the excess water. “I’m only staying for twenty minutes while you shower, no need for sunscreen.”

“Yes need for sunscreen,” you disagree, sipping your water one last time before rummaging through your bag in search of the light blue bottle.

You immediately feel it in your skin as soon as you’re not covered by the roof of the house anymore. It is, after all, almost lunch time and the sun is at its peak — beautiful, majestic and burning hot. It only takes a few steps for you to reach the border of the pool and Jungkook gets the message, slowly walking towards you in the water.

“Dry your face and shoulders, please,” you demand at once, throwing him a small towel that was hanging around one of the lounge chairs. Luckily, he’s quick enough to catch it before it falls into the pool.

Still, Jungkook complains quietly. “It’s just twenty minutes, it’s really not a big deal.”

“It’s not a big deal until your cheeks are completely red,” you argue, squeezing a bit of the product on your fingers and soon applying it to his forehead and down his blushed nose. “Look, it’s already rosy from the walk we took. You should’ve asked for the sunscreen earlier.”

“Okay, okay,” he begrudgingly agrees just as he closes his eyes, your hands running close to the eyebrows. “You know what? We should’ve booked this place for one more day.”

“You think so?” You ask, finally bringing your hands back and closing the lid of the sunscreen bottle. “Don’t dip your head in the water for at least a few minutes, please,” you warn.

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been to LA before, we know how it is. I think I like it here more,” Jungkook explains, swimming backwards towards the middle of the pool. “We’re staying in a hotel for two days before going back home. A hotel doesn’t have this.”

“The hotel has a pool.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes playfully. “You know what I mean. We can’t have this in a hotel.”

“We can just rest for two days,” you suggest. “Wake up and eat and nap and eat and…”

He laughs and twirls in the water. “I hate to interrupt you, but we’ll be late for checkout if you don’t go shower.”

“Right.”

There’s something about being on the road with him that brings you nothing but peace. It must be the perfect combination of clear skies, warm winds, the comfortable silence and the freedom of being on the road. Even with a destination in mind, it doesn’t feel like you need to follow it through. You can go anywhere, do anything, stop the car in the middle of nowhere and stare at the sea for an hour if you want to.

It almost makes you feel nostalgic for something that is happening right now.

The road gets busier and busier the closer you get to the city. Around here, you can see the mansions up in the hills, the exclusive restaurants here and there, and the fancy cars accelerating past the maximum speed displayed on the road signs of Malibu. Still, when you slowly press the brakes to stop on a red light, it feels like you’re in your own little world.

It’s always like this. He’s there and, suddenly, it hits. Everything around you melts, there’s nothing else. Sometimes, when Jungkook’s in the room, it almost looks like he shines — to you, there’s a bright, golden aura surrounding him. It’s warm, inviting and irresistible.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything when he sees the corners of your lips tug up without a reason, deciding to just mirror them. Once again, you find yourself wishing you could freeze this moment — this very moment. Just as his smile reaches his sparkling eyes and an airy laugh escapes his lips.

“Baby, the lights have just turned green.”

Read more ›› masterlist

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #yes the smut tag some of you were waiting for but don't get too excited

732 notes · View notes

winwinnns · 3 years

Text

impress you (a) (s)

dancer! reader, dance teacher! yuta, hard dom yuta, sub reader (fem), degration, choking (kind of), exhibitionism? (they fuck in a dance studio) humiliation, minor spanking, mentions of edging, short aftercare

self indulgent. i love dancing and want to be apart of a group asap lol. maybe that’s sharing too much,,,,, anyways enjoy!

you took dance very seriously. it was an escape for you. you loved the way it felt after you’d spent so much time learning the moves and it finally paying off. you liked seeing how good you were, rewatching videos people had taken of you or watching yourself in the mirrors as you performed. you were pretty confident about your skills to say the least.

that was until the studio hired a new teacher. yuta nakamoto wore your confidence down. you had always been able to impress your teachers, but he never seemed happy with you. if you glanced in the wrong direction he’d tell you to be more focused. even if you enthralled yourself in a dance he’d tell you to be more passionate. he wasn’t like that to anyone else and that got on your nerves

you had started practicing at 7am, it was now 11 am. you weren’t satisfied with how it looked. you knew there needed to be absolutely no flaws in order to impress yuta.

“we should run it again” you suggest. your group members groaned.

your group leader sighed. “y/n i know how much this means to you but you need a break. we all do. even if it’s for 5 minutes will you come sit down with us?”

how could you take a break when it wasn’t perfect yet? you were focused now and you knew taking a break would shatter your determined state.

“you guys take a break. i’ll be fine.”

“but y/n-“

“i’ll be fine.” you said, walking over to the sound booth to restart the song.

you stared yourself down in the mirror, analyzing every single move. your love for dance was soon buried by your determination to please him. you’d practice at ungodly hours of the night to make sure you knew what you were doing.

whenever you went to your group members to complain about him, they always said the same thing.

“hes hard on you because he knows your good”

were you? you know you definitely used to be, but with yuta’s unrealistic expectations of you, you thought of yourself as just okay. an average dancer. that’s not what you wanted to be, but you accepted that you were.

the next day, the groups performed in front of each other. when it was your turn to perform, you were ready. you stood in your spot, waiting for the music to start playing. you felt yourself move fluidly, feeling the music in your bones. the beats bounced around your skull, you felt like a part of the song. you’d surely impress him this time. for once in a long time you felt good, your energy filling you with confidence. you felt like the best. you made eye contact with him and smirked, remembering all the times he grilled you about facial expressions. you had this in the bag.

the music stopped, you nailed your ending pose, looking at him again. the other dancers in the studio cheered for your group. you bowed politely and moved to the side, making room for the next group.

“okay. time for critiques. will the first group come to the middle of the room”

you weren’t nervous like you’d usually be. you knew you did good. you were ready to experience the feeling of impressing him, rewarding you for your hard work. you really did work hard. you took this more seriously then any other dance you’ve done with this group.

after complimenting your group members on their flow and energy, yuta turned to you.

“y/n, you need to work on your form. it was a little sloppy.”

sloppy?! you wanted to talk to him privately. how could he say that about you? you were doing so good you were sure of it. you really felt connected to the music. you knew for a fact your form was not sloppy.

after it was done, you went up to him. he was in a corner of the room, swiping at something on his phone.

“you never seem happy with me.”

he looked up from his phone.

“what?”

“every time i dance you always find something wrong with it. even if i do really good you never compliment anything. why?”

“because you’re not doing your best.”

you mouth hung open. what was he talking about? you have absolutely been doing your best. you were at the top of your game this week. you even reminded your partners of the moves you knew them so well. you had put all of your emotion into this performance and he still thought it wasn’t good enough.

“what do you mean? that was one of my better performances.”

“it was a good performance, but i know you can do better.”

do better? your all wasn’t enough for him. you wanted to punch him. that was your best. you knew it’d be hard to top it.

everyone had left the room, leaving you and yuta alone.

“your expectations are so fucking high. i know i came very close to being perfect this time. i worked my ass of. i put all of my free time into perfecting this and you have nothing good to say about it?”

you knew swearing unprofessional, and it wasn’t going to help anything. but you didn’t care. you were so pissed.

“y/n.”

“all i wanted to do was impress you. i did my absolute best. it feels like nothing i do is ever good enough for you.”

he ran his fingers through his hair. “god will you just shut up.”

“excuse me?”

you were taken aback. he did not just tell you to shut up. no fucking way. he moved closer to you, faces only inches apart.

“i said shut up.”

you could feel his breath fanning your face. he was really really hot. what. you thought to yourself. what the fuck is going on.

“holy shit” you whispered.

he smirked. “what”

you stared at his lips. they were really nice. you wanted to kiss him. what has gotten into you? you gulped. his finger went to trace your throat.

“got nothing to say now, huh baby?”

he called you baby. holy shit. it sounded so hot coming from him. you wanted him to say it again. you just looked at him, his eyes were dark with something unknown.

you kiss him experimentally, your lips molding together. his hand wraps around your throat. you squeak, loving how it feels.

he bites your bottom lip, making you whine. he pulls away.

“needy already?” he scoffed.

he brought his hands to your hips, pulling you closer.

“you know, i hate dealing with needy sluts.” he licked his lips. “but i’ll make an exception this time.”

he pushed his lips against yours. this kiss was rougher. you squeezed your thoughts together. just kissing him was making you feel good, you wondered what else he would do. you hoped he wouldn’t leave you high and dry.

“take this off.” he said against your lips. he tugged on your shirt. you took it off quickly, returning to his lips. he smirked

“eager aren’t we? you want me that bad?”

you nodded. you really needed him. you didn’t care how you just wanted him to touch you.

“say it.”

“i want you yuta.”

“take your pants off.”

you pushed your sweats down aggressively tossing them away from you

he rubbed you through your panties. you immediately ground down on his hand, moaning at the feeling. he hummed and focused on your clothed clit, rubbing hard.

he leaned you over the sound booth, tearing your panties down. he fingered you for what felt like 4 seconds before taking his cock out of his underwear. he rubbed the tip up and down your slit, chuckling when you begged for more.

“does it feel good?” he asks

you nod.

“then why would you want anything more?” he teased “what if i only do this. could you cum from it?”

you shake your head “no yuta please give me more!” you push yourself backward against his cock.

he tsked. “now baby you need to be patient. i’ll fuck you when i want to.”

you whined and pushed back more. he slapped your ass before rubbing the pain away.

“what did i say?”

he laced his fingers in your hair and pulled your head up.

“repeat what i said.”

you moaned. “be patient and you’ll fuck me when you want to.”

“if you knew what i said why did you disobey? you’re such a needy bitch.”

you moaned again. you loved it when he degraded you. you never thought you’d be into something like that. it made you feel so good.

suddenly he pushed into you. you gasped. he was larger than you were used to.

“fuck you’re so big!”

he smirked and slapped your ass.

“i know. can you take it?”

you knew he wasn’t really asking. your walls swallowed him up. he thrusted into you slowly.

“how does it feel? you like it when i fuck you like this, where anyone could walk in?”

“yes i love it! please fuck me harder!”

“mm what would your group members think if they walked in on this? seeing you so needy and taking my cock. you’re just a horny little slut aren’t you”

you moan and nod. he fucked you faster. you felt so pliable in his hands, his words making you impossibly wetter.

“you’re so lucky we aren’t at my place. i’d edge you so much for being an annoying little brat.”

he pounded into you chasing his release.

“rub your clit.” he ordered

you complied and moaned as soon as your fingers make contact with your clit, back arching. he grabbed your hips, nails leaving indents in your skin.

“fuck yuta.” you whined. you were close. “please don’t stop.”

he chuckled and pulled your head up by your hair. his lips latching onto your neck. he bit and sucked marks onto you, the feeling making you that much closer.

“i’m close!”

he hummed against you neck. “you gonna cum for me? show me how good my cock feels in your slutty pussy?”

you whined. “please please please don’t stop!”

“wasn’t planning on it baby.”

there it was again. baby. the name rang through your ears. it made you feel warm. you wanted him to call you that all the time. it was the last thing you needed to cum.

“fuck!”

you came on his cock. he thrusted into you faster before pulling out and releasing on your back. you both panted, catching your breaths.

“holy shit.” he said. “that was so hot baby”

he took off his shirt and used to to clean your back. he pulled you up and help you in his arms.

“you did really well.”

you flushed at his words, nuzzling into his chest.

“thank you.”

he rubbed your back for a little while before getting your clothes and handing them to you.

“we should do this again.” he suggests.

you nod furiously. “yes please.”

he chuckled. “oh, and i’ll try to go easier on you.”

with that he put on his hoodie and left, leaving you alone to put on your clothes. you felt some sort of satisfaction. you had pleased him. not in the way you were expecting, but it felt just as good.

#this was fun to write #i hope you liked it!#yuta #yuta smut #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct angst #nct yuta #yuta x reader

194 notes · View notes

todoscript · 4 years

Text

Syndicate — [ 1 ]

Parts | one ; two ; three

Genre | Mafia AU / Anti-Villain AU.

Pairing(s) | MafiaBosses!TodoBakuDeku x Fem!Reader

Rating | Mature

Words | 5.2k+

Summary | Being the lover of, not one, but three influential young men, who are the leaders of the most wanted crime syndicate in Japan, it is no surprise that other eyes are watching you beyond the three’s own.

Warnings | Violence. Cursing/crude language. Guns. Mafia talk/“negotiating”. Lots of fighting. Reader is inspired by the femme fatale archetype. Polyamorous relationship. Characters are aged-up. Sexual undertones/implied sexual content. Possessiveness. Heavily self-indulgent. Written in 3rd POV. Shouto’s “codename” is Mercury (b/c the planet is both half-hot and half-cold lol).

Author’s Notes | Hello all! This is the first ever fanfic I’ve posted on tumblr! Sorry, the idea was lingering in my head until I suddenly felt the burst of energy to start writing this out of nowhere in the dead of 3AM. I’ve written fanfiction before but I’ve never published anything for tumblr so this is exciting.

The air is still, nearly silent apart from the nocturnal creatures that scurry and prowl through alleys, navigating over the dewy darkness between the seams. The moon graces the gloom of the night with its luster across desolated areas in Japan. Business hours have longed past as services are halted until the next coming day. Civilians are nowhere to be found, tucked away in their homes with their lights flickered off.

What remains alive in Japan during this hour is the wind cast through the streets, the scamper of animals in the nocturne, and a low hum of an ebony vehicle driven down roads of street lights.

“Whatever the fuck Overhaul wants better be worth my fucking time, Deku,” hisses a peeved Katsuki Bakugou, leaning against the window of their sleek automobile and looking highly uninterested during the ride. Izuku Midoriya, the young man with the head of unruly verdant hair, nods his head. His expression is mild at his friend’s usual discontented tone.

“Kai Chisaki—the head boss of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza—wants to negotiate with us, Kacchan. Surely it would be advantageous for us to hear him out. If anything we’ll manage to at least squeak some intel from him to reference for later on.” A glint rises in the male’s eyes.

“‘Some intel’ ain’t enough. If they’re gonna drag all three of us out here, then it better be for something good, or else I might have to let off some explosions to satisfy my boredom.” Bakugou’s quirk begins to pop and crack around his palms at the idea of letting loose.

Shouto Todoroki—the third of the trio—sighs exasperatingly at his fellow inflamed mafia boss, running his hand through his red and white tresses.

“Bakugou, I’d advise against it. Knowing the location we’re heading to, your explosions would only cause a ruckus in the area that’d get the annoying heroes involved. I’ve had enough dealing with those fools as it is and we also don’t need the men in blue following after our trail.”

“Shut up Icy-Hot! If this ‘negotiation’ isn’t beneficial to us, I’ll find my own way to make them pay for wasting our damn time!” Bakugou yells.

These three young men—Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, and Shouto Todoroki—are known as the bosses of one of Japan’s most powerful organized crime syndicates.

Notorious, ruthless, and authoritative, these three, despite their youth, have secured a name for themselves within the underground crime world. Aside from their tenacity and skill, the strength of each of their quirks played a large factor in their rise among the rivaling crime groups. They easily snuffed out the weak competition without so much as a sweat, and working under them are other strong combatants, each of them possessing their own unique and powerful quirks.

With everything at their disposal, the Yuuei mafia group quickly obtained a vast, large territory within the capital of Japan—the epicenter of where all the shady deals and disputes occur.

“We didn’t even bring Angel Face with us. What a drag.” Bakugou gruffs. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed, and cushioned behind his head as the lamps flicker past them, the dim lights splayed across the endless road.

“Letting ____ rest was the least we could do after her successful infiltration at the political officials gala,” the middle of the three states matter-a-factly.

“Especially after the rounds she endured even after her mission,” Todoroki adds, vividly remembering the gala dress cascading down her skin and clinging to her body that night, as well as their antics that ensued afterward.

He recalls the beautiful, red formal gown she wore for the occasion, the material hugging her figure perfectly and accentuating her curves in all the right places. God, he prayed that something within him wouldn’t stir at the thought of it again.

They all remembered it quite clearly. It made their fingers itch the very evening of the event, yearning to touch all the dips and arcs that sculpted her body. Her hair, styled up and tied with a matching silk red ribbon, kept the skin of her neck bare and begging to be marked while gold lined her wrists and collar bones. To say she was a goddess that night would be an understatement. The three could barely keep their hands off her before she even left the mansion, let alone attend the gala. But once her mission was complete, she arrived home to be thoroughly loved and lusted, with three young and hungry men indulging in all the divine fruits this celestial being had to offer to them.

The girl they speak of is not only their right-hand woman but also the three’s beloved paramour. Since their journey into coming to power, ____ has been with them through thick and thin and has become an influential asset in attaining their position.

Beautiful, yet dangerous, she proved to be an incredibly powerful fighter in many forms of combat in combination with her quirk, along with having a gift for deception that allowed her to climb her way to the top of the pack. Naturally, the trio found themselves drawn to her, not just for her strength and beauty, but also her passion and ability to mend the spirits of those around her. If it weren’t her, the Yuuei mafia group would not be as intact and well-oiled as it is today.

“Besides, we have some of our best following in the car behind us in case anything suspicious happens,” Midoriya gestures to the similar-looking sleek and dark-tinted car trailing behind their own.

“I very much doubt we need them, but it’s best not to worry Angel too much while she’s resting,” Todoroki murmurs, crossing his legs.

A few more turns and they’ve eventually entered the area of a vacant warehouse located on the edge of Japan near the shore.

The moment their vehicle is directed to a stop, the three bosses exit. Bakugou vehemently slams his door, eyeing the building with a vexing glare.

“Let’s get this shit show over with. This better be good.”

The warehouse is eerily quiet in the dead of the night and smells of salt from the ocean behind it. Spotting them walking to the entrance, the watchmen of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza hastily open the doors enclosing the warehouse. The hinges bear an uncomfortable creaking sound that jars through the silence.

“Oh, he’s here! He’s here! My cute little Izuku is here!” hollers a shrill voice belonging to an all-too-energetic head of messy, bunned-up blonde hair. The said boy blinks twice at her enthusiasm as they approach the lone wooden table situated in the center of the warehouse.

Uh, do I know her? He ponders for a second before dismissing the thought.

A pale man with gloved hands and shaggy auburn hair holds a hand out to halt the girl behind him. “Calm down Toga, we haven’t spoken of negotiations yet, so I need you to be quiet.”

Toga pouts, nearly grasping a silver blade at her side but stills herself for now. In the meantime, she opts to fidget with the tubular machine wrapped around her body.

The three look up to view a small group illuminated by the light fixed above the wooden table. Their eyes swiftly count seven or eight of them surrounding that area, including the ringleader, and likely more hidden somewhere in the darkness around them. After all, any fine and experienced villainous group would know better than to invite the bosses of the most dangerous crime syndicate without being thoroughly prepared for a possible scuffle to occur.

However, for now, they all advance with the notion to talk first before unleashing quirks and violence (well most of them anyway).

“Welcome, welcome. I see you made it to this place without much trouble; you’re right on time,” Overhaul greets the three young men mildly, “Deku, Ground Zero, and Mercury.”

Midoriya walks forward as the center of their entourage to return the cordial greeting. “Yes, it’s nice to finally meet you, Kai Chisaki of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza. Otherwise known as Overhaul.”

“Ah, so you know of me and my cause. It seems our reputation precedes us.”

“Of course. The Shie Hassaikai yakuza has long been in business in the crime world…” Midoriya muses, “Though they’ve wrung out past their former glory. Having since been pushed back into the underground after the rise of heroes.”

Bakugou smirks, close to letting out a snicker at the backhanded comment.

It’s true. While the Shie Hassaikai were one of the main criminal groups running the yakuza underground, that all soon fell and crumbled as the surge of heroes came into society. It was only after the former boss’ grandson, Kai Chisaki, came into power and took leadership that their name grew back into prominence once again, albeit little by little.

“Why you little–” A man donning a long white raincoat and plague doctor mask swiftly appears with a pistol pointed in Midoriya’s direction, none too amused by the remark. However, he’s cut off by a wall of ice erected at Midoriya’s side.

“Watch where you point those toys you little rat,” Todoroki sneers, and the tone of his voice nearly exposes chills to the air.

“Calm down, Chrono. We’re the ones that invited them as guests, thus we need to treat them like so.”

The white-haired subordinate withdraws at the words of his leader, retracting the gun back into the pocket of his coat.

“I apologize, he’s simply on edge over the fact we have some pretty powerful people at our doorstep. You’ll have to excuse him.”

“It’s quite all–”

“Did we come here to talk, or did we come here to fight?” Bakugou barges through, shoving past Midoriya with no restraint.

“I thought this was a fucking negotiation, not an apology fess. If one of your dogs is so edgy, I’d be happy to give him a good thrashing to satiate him if you want,” his raised hand sparks and flickers in the dark, “If not then get to it, Overhaul,” he threatens. Midoriya sighs.

“I think we’re simply all… piqued as to why this meeting was demanded out of nowhere and scheduled for the dead of the night no less, but I’m sure you have some important matters to discuss with us right, Overhaul?” Midoriya reasons, a sly grin on his lips.

“Right, let's get to it shall we?” Approaching closer to the table separating them, Overhaul continues, “First off, I must congratulate you on successfully infiltrating that gala the other night. Not many crime organizations can sneak into a party of that caliber. Especially when it’s so heavily guarded and kept secretive to all suspicious eyes of the dark,” he commends, digging a hand into the pocket of his jacket.

The three exchange quick, wary glances from the corner of their eyes that the opposite party misses.

“You were there?” Todoroki questions bluntly in which Overhaul hums in response.

“Hm, yes. But for different reasons, I’m sure. You see, I’ve been… examining little details of the Yuuei mafia group recently. It fascinates me how well-oiled and efficient you are at running your organization, so I began to ponder: ‘How do they do it?’ Little did I know, the answer all became more than clear to me from what I saw at that gala,” the auburn-haired man drawls, finally plucking out a photo from his pocket and sliding it across the wood under the light.

The moment the three recognized the image, their eyes widened, soon shifting into visages of sheer hostility at the next statement pronounced.

“This girl here? I want her.”

Within the confines of the paper is ____, dressed in the red gown she wore the very night of the gala, a masquerade mask over her features with the purpose to obscure herself in the throng.

The three before Overhaul seethe vessels of wrath.

“What did you just say? Do you even know what you’re asking of us?” Todoroki feels icy and heated atmospheres form on his opposing left and right sides upon hearing Overhaul’s words, sensing the tension rising around his fellow partners as well.

“The girl, I must say, does excellent work at her job. She’s skilled and tactical, having infiltrated many influential organizations and assassinated several powerful faces getting in the way of your mafia group. Such precision, efficiency, and beauty makes her the perfect woman, wouldn’t you agree?” He picks up the picture, bringing it up next to him.

Given the deadly pressure in the air, the next words he utters might be the final nail in his coffin.

“Well, I want you to hand her over to me.”

The nail is hit. There’s a lingering silence before hell nearly breaks loose and the next motions could deliver his soul down the River of Styx.

Fueled by blood-boiling anger and annoyance, Bakugou charges forward to land an explosive hit on the yakuza boss. “LIKE HELL WE WOULD, YA FUCKING BASTARD!” He’s thwarted by a yellow barrier emerging to shield the leader from the attack, courtesy of a henchman at his left side. The blonde jumps back, his hands still crackling and his rage not dissipating anytime soon. “Don’t go spewing a bunch of shit outta your mouth!”

“Now… let’s be rational or you’ll start getting dirt everywhere...” Overhaul dusts off his shoulder before resuming the conversation nonchalantly, “Of course I’ll provide you with compensation. I wouldn’t be so naive as to expect to be given something so valuable without offering payment after all.”

With a snap of his fingers a large, bulky man promptly lays a silver briefcase on the table. The locks click open to reveal wads of cash layering the case to the brim, enough to flabbergast and entice any common citizen in Japan.

“If this amount isn’t enough, I have another briefcase with—”

A jolting sound of the wooden table and metal briefcase breaking beneath Midoriya’s foot is enough to diminish the rest of Overhaul’s remark, signifying their blunt answer to his offer.

“What a waste of a night it’s been. Presenting money to us in hopes that we’d simply hand over our beloved like she’s some prostitute for sale? You're more of a fool than I took you for, Kai Chisaki,” Each word that rolls off Midoriya’s tongue is laced with venom. Such malice is enough to paralyze those who hear it, as if it would be the last statement they’ll ever listen to before hitting the concrete dead.

Reasoning with the trio any further is equivalent to bargaining with the god of the underworld, offering nothing but your knees on the floor and a sad pleading voice, only to be whisked back to the deepest, darkest chambers of hell.

Overhaul simply pauses before following with a long, testy sigh.

“A no then? Alright. Toga.”

The bun-headed blonde pounces forward at the command almost instantaneously, knife in her grasp and ready to swing. Midoriya moves to the side with ease, evading the blade as well as dodging a puncture from a needle. His agility is manifested in green electric currents of aura.

“Ooh, I finally get to cut up and obtain cute Izuku’s yummy blood!” She grins psychotically, keeping both eyes trained on the green-haired boy. “Heehee, I’ve been waiting for this day! Ever since I saw that photo of you all bruised up in a fight, I had to have you all to myself! I just love a man all red and bloodied!” Toga exclaims in utter glee, giggling like a schoolgirl meeting her celebrity idol.

Midoriya grimaces, nearly shivering at her excitement over announcing her neurotic confession to him. Her contorted facade is not earning her any points either. Taking notice of the wary expression that crosses his brows, Toga grins wider.

“It’s OK, even if you don’t like me now, you’ll definitely like me when I get a drop of that girl’s blood and transform into her! We’ll look so much alike, you’ll have heart-eyes for me too!” Her features curve into a look of pure hysteric that leaves Midoriya speechless, so much so it takes a loud blast hurled past him to finally bring his senses back to the conflict.

“Move it, Deku!” Bakugou’s attacks are relentless and powerful, but Toga’s nimbleness prevents her from getting hit.

“Deku, Ground Zero, back up,” Todoroki raises his left hand, the corresponding side flaring with heat before quickly igniting into bright hot flames enough to cover his entire arm. “You lot have some nerve to call us and arrange this abhorrent deal under the guise of a ‘negotiation.’ I’ll incinerate you all for even thinking you could take her from us.”

His quirk is unleashed in a flurry of fire that’s launched toward his enemies.

“Dabi,” Overhaul signals and a lanky man with patched, burnt scars and skin held together by staples and stitches steps forward, triggering his blue blazes to combat the red-orange ones. The infernos collide into a firestorm that soon scatters and disperses due to a power struggle.

“Tch,” Todoroki narrows his brows, annoyed.

“Hm, the brat’s not all talk after all,” Dabi’s expression remains stoic while his hand hovers in front of him, still swallowed by his azure flames. Wordlessly he releases his blazes once more only to be countered by Todoroki’s wall of ice diminishing the onslaught of fire.

On their end, Midoriya and Bakugou are in pursuit of the head honcho Overhaul himself, while attempting to throw blows at Toga along the way.

Now enveloped in energy that increases his strength and dexterity tenfold, it isn’t long until the green-haired young man catches up to crafty Toga’s momentum. With a grunt, Midoriya kicks forward, swinging his foot into the girl’s direction with tremendous force that’s too quick for her to avoid.

Toga braces herself for the impact but the attack never meets. Instead, a yellow shield materializes in front of her to take the blow, a crack now evident on the surface of the saffron safeguard. “Oooh! Izuku’s really out for blood! How thrilling!” she squeals, licking her lips.

“It’s that fucking barrier bastard again! Move over, I’ll kill him!” yells a pissed Bakugou who jumps over Midoriya’s head, running across the top of the manifested barrier. From there, he spots his offender.

Gritting his teeth, he dashes off the shield before it can disappear and uses it to propel himself forward. His palms glow and envelope themselves with heat as he holds them outward.

“Rappa! I can’t conduct another shield so quickly, get him!” Tengai, the one with the barrier quirk, hastens his partner. Rappa zealously swoops in front of him with iron-knuckle gloves ready.

“Oh no, you don’t! Try and fucking dodge this!” Bakugou brings his hands forward while still in midair, “Stun Grenade!” A radiant, gleaming light emits from his palms, effectively blinding all those within his vicinity.

Rappa and Tengai have no choice but to cover their eyes from the intensity of the light, leaving them wide open to strike!

Without hesitation, the ash-blonde creates two more explosions to launch himself forward, spinning in the air and gathering momentum before firing his attack encased in an explosive tornado.

“Howitzer Impact!!”

In an instance, a flash exudes in a fiery burst of nuclear reaction, which releases violent discharges of kinetic energy towards his enemies. The attack hits home, covering a chuck of the area with debris and rubble, and producing a hole on the right side of the warehouse.

Tengai and Rappa are incapacitated.

“Kac— Ground Zero, you went all out didn’t you…” Midoriya mutters while holding Toga down despite all her fidgeting. In a last-ditch effort, the girl draws out the spare knife tucked away in her utility belt, however the young man on top of her knocks it away before she can react any further.

“Toga, am I correct? I suggest you stand down, or I may have to break something to make you cooperate.” Midoriya’s warning exudes a menacing tone, in contrast to his former courteous character and the gentle features adorning his face. Yet Toga does not seem fazed by this.

“Heehee, you’re so cute when you make threats like that…” she giggles, shifting her head ever so slightly to catch glimpses of the male’s appearance. He’s quite disheveled down to his wrinkled suit, unbuttoned collar, sweat glistening on his forehead, and what’s this?

Toga peeks at a single crimson line split on the skin of his cheek with dilated pupils.

“Even though you were so fast, I at least managed to graze you just a teeny-tiny bit! That scarlet cut looks so nice on you, Izuku, aw how I wish I can give you more!” She prattles on and on, beaming over every utterance spoken past her lips. “I did say red is the best color on you, after all!”

Midoriya’s eyes narrow at her behavior, fists clenched and apt to deliver a silencing blow.

“Although… blue wouldn’t look half bad either.”

Unable to express confusion at her remark, he soon perceives a blast of cerulean blue flames aimed and released in his direction, forcing him to jump up to dodge the attack. Toga makes her escape after the fire diffuses, withdrawing next to Dabi. The patched man continues his onslaught on Todoroki and Midoriya.

“They’ve managed to defeat our spear and shield, and nearly took out Toga,” Overhaul’s stance is methodical and calculating, overseeing the fight from the back lines of his unit with a gloved hand beneath his chin. “I suppose it’s time to use that,” he declares.

Chrono briefly glances at him before reaching for a gun in the pocket of his coat—a different weapon from the pistol he pointed at Midoriya earlier. In a container held behind him, he produces a peculiarly shaped bullet, one that takes on the form of a cartridge with a hypodermic needle sticking out on one end.

“Dabi, when these bullets hit, that will be your chance to burn them all away,” orders the auburn-haired man. He raises an arm to prep for the signal as Chrono readies the gun wielded in his hand, positioning his target onto the spiky blonde mafia boss.

“Ha! You think a pathetic little gun is going to stop me?!” While Bakugou exudes confidence and arrogance, his dual-haired comrade is not as keen about the situation at hand.

Why would those fools try to use such a primitive method of fighting at this point? They saw how useless that gun was earlier… ponders Todoroki in the heat of battle, Unless…

“Ground Zero! Be careful! There’s something fishy about that weapon they’re using!” he warns, making the blonde’s expression fix into an irritated glare.

“Shut up Icy-Hot; I know what I’m doing! Why don’t you pay attention to patchwork over there before you get another scar!” Bakugou quips back, eyes never leaving Overhaul. “I’m gonna make this washout yakuza leader regret ever giving us a call to this useless negotiation.”

The man is impassive at the blonde’s threats, lips remaining in a fine line underneath his mask. His arm stays raised next to him for Chrono to acknowledge.

At once, Bakugou’s body launches back into action like a jet engine propelling a rocket. His movements gather more and more sweat to strengthen himself for another devastating assault.

“Pesky thing won’t stop moving…” mutters Chrono, hand continually shifting aim at Bakugou’s unpredictable tumbling. “I’ll just make you sit still!”

On command, arrow-shaped hair pierces through the fabric of his hood and extends straight to Bakugou. His quirk’s versatility and quick instincts allow him to evade the attack to the left with ease. However, it seems Chrono was waiting for that very moment as the blonde is now within his gun’s line of sight.

Overhaul draws his hand down, giving Chrono the signal to finally pull the trigger. A crack of a sonic boom resonates within the single millisecond it is shot. The dart is fired.

The gunshot rings throughout the space of the warehouse. Todoroki and Midoriya can barely register the shot in time to yell out to Bakugou, whose head turns toward the capsule’s velocity in almost slow motion.

Crap..! he curses, unable to move away to escape the bullet in time and preparing to embrace the shot.

However, it never makes its mark.

“Boss! Watch out!”

A gruff voice suddenly makes its debut within the fray, taking everyone by surprise as the newcomer throws himself in front of Bakugou, hardened arms crossed.

“What the—!”

Chrono watches in despair. The bullet ricochets right off the rock-like body of a man with spiked tufts of crimson red hair.

“What the hell? Red Riot?!” sputters a bewildered Bakugou at Kirishima’s abrupt entrance.

“D-Dammit!” Chrono tries to fire again to rectify his failure, but his attempt is in vain. Something muscly wraps around his arm tightly, tossing him away.

“Froppy!” Midoriya calls out to the girl as she retracts her froggy tongue, currently clung to the wall, and camouflaged into her surroundings. She reveals herself into the battle with a small “ribbit.”

“While you guys were inside, a bunch of their goons started surrounding our cars. We knew something shady was up, especially when we heard explosions coming from inside, so we busted our way in here right past them!” Kirishima explains, now standing back-to-back against Bakugou, “Seems like you’re fighting a battle too!”

“I see, so they planned on ambushing all of us if we didn’t comply with their deal,” says Todoroki. He fires more flames in their direction. “How pathetic. They were woefully unprepared.”

“Agreed! Ambushing is no way to fight! Real men would come at us head-on!” Kirishima emphasizes his fierceness through clanking his hardened fists against each other, jagged edges sparking.

“Red Riot! Froppy!” exclaims Midoriya, “Where are the others?”

Asui ribbits before answering, “They’re handling the rest of the—”

“L-Leader..! Leader!” a frantic voice shouts from the entrance of the warehouse, where a ragged up Shie Hassaikai henchman tries to pry inside.

“T-The girl..! She isn’t h-here, she isn’t— GAH!”

His message is interrupted. A menacing shadowy figure looms over the goon like a monster hiding within the dark and throws him back to the struggle outside, proceeding to rampage across the battlefield. Desperate cries leak out but to no avail.

Overhaul discerns the sputtered message:

The girl he so desired was not with them to begin with.

To his dismay, this fight was pointless. If what he sought could not be forcibly taken right then and there, then there is no reason to continue the battle. There was no prize to be won by the end of it all.

Now, he must adjust his plans due to the unfavorable news. How tragic.

At the thought of having lost time, energy, and resources, the yakuza leader pinches the bridge of his nose, utterly furious. There’s a pause in which Overhaul seethes an aura of killing intent over this frustration.

But it eventually simmers and subsides. What happens now cannot be changed, no matter how enraged he is. So he must take logical steps to preserve and remedy the repercussions, which to him was simple:

“We’re withdrawing.”

“What?” Dabi looks at him incredulously, “After all this?”

“Yes, they've taken down our spear and shield, and have wiped out the majority of the soldiers. If what we want isn’t here, then there is no point in staying,” Overhaul’s husky tone bears weight and authority at every word.

“Nemoto, grab Chrono from wherever he was thrown.”

“Yes, Overhaul. What about Rappa and Tengai?”

The auburn-haired man doesn’t so much as spare a glance toward his two defeated subordinates lying on the ground, “Leave them. They’re expendable to me.”

Nemoto nods, going to gather a knocked out Chrono thrown across the warehouse and now lying unconscious atop broken wooden crates.

Midoriya’s fists clenched tightly at the scene, realizing what the yakuza’s next plan of action was going to be.

“They’re trying to escape!”

“Oh, the fuck they are. I won’t let a single one of you bastards leave!” Bakugou bursts into the air, propelled by the explosions from his palms in hot pursuit, with Midoriya catching up thanks to his heightened speeds.

“Sorry boys, party’s over!” Toga intercepts the two using twin knives flung in their direction, catching them off guard. Dabi follows the diversion by gathering a massive amount of flames into his hands before swiftly releasing the kindled energy to erect a blue wall of fire throughout his surroundings.

“Bye Izuku~!” a feminine voice shrills from behind the fiery wall, becoming the last words they hear as they wait for the flames to dissipate, ultimately revealing that their enemies had already fled.

“Those fuckers couldn’t have gone far,” Bakugou doesn’t relent, poised on finding them and having them pay the full consequences of their actions. Midoriya grasps his shoulder, stopping him.

“Let them go, Kacchan. Considering the location they decided for this meeting, they likely fled by boat. We have no way of following them at the moment.”

Todoroki agrees, adding on, “Besides, there are more important things to worry about right now,” he casts his gaze to the wooden table Midoriya had broken prior to the fight transpiring. “For one, they’re after ____ and are willing to go to any lengths to get her. We need to head back to the mansion to make sure she’s safe.” There’s slight urgency evident in his tone. Despite their tenacity, the idea of having their beloved wrenched away is enough to render them even a little bit fearful. Had she been present in the conflict, there’s no telling what could have happened.

“And two,” Todoroki walks off to another site of the warehouse, picking up something dropped on the floor, “we need to figure out what this is.” In his hand, he holds the small capsule bullet that is now slightly dented thanks to the impact against Kirishima’s hardened skin.

The other two examine the capsule briefly until Bakugou decides to take it from Todoroki’s fingers for closer inspection. If Overhaul was so keen on using a gun to do away with them all, despite how inferior it was, then this must be no ordinary bullet.

The three decide to contain the item for further examination for now as they, Kirishima, and Asui make their way outside again. There, bodies of Shie Hassaikai thugs littered the floor after having been thoroughly beaten into submission. Tokoyami, Yaoyorozu, Uraraka, and Kaminari lean against the cars casually but remain attentive after the fight.

“It was quite an ill-planned move to dare to attack us in the night,” Tokoyami’s eyes closed in thought at the havoc he wreaked thanks to the amplified powers of his quirk. Kaminari snickers and boasts with an electric snap of his fingers, “Yakuza didn’t know what hit them, the mafia always stays on top.”

“Excellent work everyone, it seems the henchmen were of no trouble to you,” Midoriya commends the squad, “Now, we must leave before the police arrive on the scene to assess the damage.”

Their six combatants all nod at the order, about to gather back in their vehicle until Bakugou huffs with a final statement before they make their getaway.

“Know that the next time we see those Shie Hassaikai bastards, we will take them down,” He narrows his eyes at the ocean, the moon still hanging above the sky and basking the waters in moonlight,

“without hesitation.”

Ending Notes | Whew.. thanks for reading! For the next part I was considering writing it in 2nd POV since the reader will actually be physically present during the events of the story now, but I’m not sure yet. Please let me know your thoughts and follow if you’re interested in this series <3

2K notes · View notes

30secondstoanime · 3 years

Text

The Birthday Present

pairing: Pro!Hero Midoriya x Fem!Reader

genre/warnings: Reader Insert, Birthday Sex

Kinky Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Gets Out of His Comfort Zone, That's Not How You're Supposed to Use Your Quirk, Porn With Plot, praise kink?, very smutty, Rough Sex, role-playing, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Teasing, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Light Choking, Doggy Style, Fluff and Smut, after sex cuddles

word count: 7,467

→ summary: Your birthday is around the corner. What better gift than your boyfriend, the #1 Hero Deku, finally giving you what you want the way you want it: rough and kinky. But first plot!

a/n: Sorry about the crap summary and title, I'm working on that lol. So this is my first fic for the bnha fandom and first attempt at writing very explicit sex scenes and venturing into kinks/BDSM, so please be kind, but also I’d love feedback! This was supposed to be a cute four-page oneshot but turned into a sixteen-page, 7k+ word behemoth, hence the self-indulgent tag ‘cause I couldn't stop writing. I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labor ;)

In a few days, you’ll be turning twenty-four. Your birthday has always been an odd day you think for someone with your quirk because age really was just a number. That’s not to say you weren’t planning to do something fun, at least if you could figure out what you’d like to do. Okay, so that was a lie. You knew exactly what or should you say who you wanted to do and that it involved getting your back blown out. As soon as the thought pops into your head, your epiglottis forgets its job, and you choke on the sip of UCC coffee, you had tried to swallow. You cough to clear your airway, gasping when air finally expands your lungs. You tap your pen nervously against your desk, eyes scanning the other pro heroes’ faces in your agency. It seems your sudden outburst hadn’t disrupted the comfortable silence of the natural lull of the workday. A beep from your hero pager pulls your attention away from people watching in the office. Coordinates flash in five consecutive seconds before the transmission ends. You stand grabbing your toolbelt and strapping it across your hips; you make your way to the front. As you near the exit, you hear your hero name being called. You turn and see Yaomomo briskly walking towards you.

“Hey Creati, you got the page too?”

“I did, sounds like they’ve made a bit of a mess of things.” You scoff good-naturedly.

“When do they ever not. Were they really like this during your time at U.A.?” She giggles and nods her head. You wonder if you’ll ever stop cleaning up after the nation’s top three heroes.

“Better get going then, we both know they share a singular brain cell, so there’s no telling how much time we have to fix things.”

“Atomic!” You laugh at Yaomomo’s weak attempt to scold you — the amusement in her black eyes softens the tone.

−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

“Oh my.”

You blow out a low whistle. Ice and scorch marks are scattered across the street and surrounding buildings. Explosive ash is still gently falling from the sky, and black tendrils are haphazardly keeping electric poles, exposed building foundation, and an abundance of wrecked vehicles from collapsing.

“Creati, check the building foundations. Create new beams and weld them together if necessary. I’ll get started on the pole, we can’t have a live electric wire falling.” She nods, and you split off. The work is slow and arduous, but the orderly nature of reorganizing and coaxing atomic particles back into place helps the time pass quickly. You’ve just finished rearranging the anatomical structure of a car hanging from a, thankfully, undamaged light pole, so that it falls to the ground weightlessly. You touch the damaged side, pull it back together, and return the car to its original density. You give the car a quick tap with the toe of your foot to test the structural integrity, satisfied you step back taking in your handiwork. What had a few hours ago looked like a DEFCON 3 military mission gone awry is now back to looking like an ordinary Japanese street. Well, as normal as you and Yaomomo could reconstruct — you weren’t miracle workers, and Ground Zero’s explosive residue was hard to get rid of. Instead, the way it collected and hung in the atmosphere made it difficult for your quirk to erase without condensing the air. That was out of the question unless you wanted to suffocate Yaomomo. Which you didn’t, so the employees of these buildings would be dealing with the smell for at least a week. Sighing, you tuck your hands in your pockets and make your way over to Creati. Her welding mask obscures her face, but you know it’s in deep concentration. After she cuts the torch and pushes the protective gear up, she gives you a smile.

“All done?”

“Just about.”

“I’ll page H.Q. Might even lodge a formal complaint against those three bird brains while I’m at it.”

“(Y/N), you can’t be serious.” She shoots you an incredulous look.

“They make this huge ass mess and don’t even bother to wait for us to arrive before dipping. Total dick move.”

“Ah-huh.” You don’t like the teasing note in her voice.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” You cross your arms defensively.

“Spit it out, Yaoyorozu.”

“You sure your foul attitude has nothing to do with not seeing Deku?” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll see him at home like I do every day. So no, I’m not upset about not seeing him.”

“If you say so.” She gives you a look, and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“You cannot still be stuck on that!”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” She bats her eyes at you innocently while creating a duffle bag to transport the welding equipment.

“That God awful theory you and Ashido have about me having a hero kink for Izuku." You begin to walk side by side back to the agency. You hand her an energy bar from your utility belt.

“I mean, you do get very flushed whenever you see him on patrol. Like, if it were a hentai video, you’d definitely be drooling with your tongue lolling out of your mouth.”

“Ugh!” You shove her with your shoulder. “That is so gross.” Both of you laugh, and after a small lapse into silence, you give.

“Okay fine. I might get instahorny whenever I see Izuku in costume, but I can’t help it. He just looks so good, and it’s heightened because I know what he looks like out of costume, and then all I want to do is jump his bones, but of course, I don’t because propriety. So I’m left with all this pent up sexual frustration!”

“So, are you going to ever mention this to him? Your birthday is in a few days and if I may be so bold —”

“It’s never stopped you.” You mumble under your breath with a smile.

“I’d suggest you request it be your birthday present.”

“Pfft. Yaomomo, we’ve been together almost a year and a half, and while our sex life is fucking phenomenal, I’m talking multiple orgasms almost every time, amazing — it’s been very strictly vanilla. Not from any lack of trying on my end, but every time I’ve tried to spice things up, he gets as close as humanly possible to spontaneous combustion. Don’t even get me started on the one time I tried to get him to choke me while I —”

“(Y/N)! Stop, goodness, I do not need the play by play of your and Izuku’s sex life. I just,” she massages her temples, “wanted to make a suggestion. While I’m relieved you feel so secure in our friendship to be so open, please remember I went to high school with him. He’s like a little brother.”

“Oh, Yaomomo, there’s nothing little about him.” Her face pales, and you can’t stifle your cackle. It quickly becomes a full-blown laugh that rattles through your body.

“I went a little too far with that last comment, gomen. On a serious note, though, how would I even go about asking him? ‘Hey babe, it’s my birthday so I want you to fuck me until my knees are jello while in your hero costume because it gets me all hot and bothered oh and since I’m risking it all I’d love it if you tied me up and maybe choked me too.’”

You glance over your shoulder, a look of profound regret is plastered over Yaomomo’s face. You give her an impish grin.

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue does it.”

“Oh (Y/N).” Your friend shakes her head. When you finally turn the corner onto the street, your hero agency is housed, you catch sight of a mop of green hair. You pick up your pace, a mischievous grin on your face. Using your quirk, you redistribute your mass, so your footfall’s noise against the pavement is silenced. Izuku is talking with someone, his back turned to you. The goods were on display. When he’s in reach, you stretch out your arms, hands cupping his butt you feel him stiffen as you whisper against his ear.

“You’re under arrest for transporting illegal buns of steel.” You watch the blush creep up from his neck before capturing his entire face. He turns his neck, trying to get a good look at you.

“Wh-what!” You begrudgingly let go of his ass, and he turns his body to face you, his freckles standing out against the pink hue of his flustered expression.

“Sorry hun, I don’t make the rules.” You shrug your shoulders.

“I- I, (Y/N) that’s not even a legal penal code! A-and there’s no way I could transport enough steel on my person to warrant a body search.”

“Ooh Deku,” you loosen up the state of your atoms, allowing them to vibrate in mock arousal, “I love it when you talk legal code at me. Repeat it: penal.”

He flounders for a reply, mouth agape at a total loss for words. You giggle at his expression, a total deer in headlights. The person he’d been talking to finally makes themselves known.

“Atomic, you’re still teasing the living soul out of Deku per usual. Glad to know things haven’t changed ‘round here.” His shark tooth smile pulls an equally toothy smile from you.

“Eijiro! When did you get back? I’ve missed you.” You rush to the redhead, and he reciprocates your hug, holding you tight.

“Man, I’ve missed you too (Y/N). The States were cool, but there’s no manlier place than home sweet home.” You pull back and take him in. He looks the exact same if not a little bit more tanned.

“Damn straight.” Yaoyorozu arrives at the end of your reunion. Her excitement at seeing her old friend is nearly palatable. They catch up enthusiastically, and you saddle up next to your boyfriend, who’s finally gotten his blush under control.

“Hey, babe.” You give his cheek a chaste kiss, and he smiles.

“Hey, love,” Izuku gives your hand a squeeze, “How was your day?”

“It was pretty run of the mill except for the utter shitstorm Yaomomo and I had to clean up in Minato City.” You glance down and watch his feet shuffle from side to side.

“Huh, sounds pretty epic.”

“Not the first, second, or even the third word I’d use, but we’re all entitled to our opinions. And don’t you try acting coy with me, Izuku! That blonde ticking time grenade, the confused weather pattern, and your quirk were all over that place.” Izuku gulps.

“I expended a lot of energy cleaning up after you and your friends baka. As compensation, you’ve gotta cook me curry rice. Deal?”

He kisses your cheek in assent.

“Great!” You beam. “I’m gonna go change, be back in fifteen.” You disappear through the agency’s massive double doors. Yaomomo watches until you’re out of view before she walks over to Midoriya.

“So about (Y/N) ’s birthday . . .”

−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

When you come out, you find a peculiar scene waiting for you. Yaoyorozu has crafted a fan for, you presume, Izuku, who is so red you could almost see the light refraction from his face’s heat and sweating by what looks like the gallon. Eijiro is by his side, trying to calm him down. You heighten the sensitivity of your cochlea to pick up the tail end of their conversation.

“It’ll be super manly, dude!”

“Bu-but I’ve never . . .” Your boyfriend seems tongue-tied.

“You’ve definitely got it in you,” Eijiro slaps Izuku on the back, “Plus Ultra!”

Izuku echoes Eijiro, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it.

You return to your average level of hearing and walk up to the trio.

“Everything good?” They all look at you with expressions that clearly scream, ‘No, everything is not good dumbass.’

“Riiight, foolish question. Izuku, babe, do you need me to help you?” He squeaks, and that stops you dead in your tracks. The last time he had squeaked in your presence was when he’d asked you out on your first date, and you think it was mostly because you had bluntly told him you had every intention of having sex with him if not after your first then for sure after your second date. He didn’t even squawk when you made good on your declaration, and you had been positive he was going to. Your assurance cost you a ¥2,000 bet with Ochako and Shoto. Whatever had transpired while you were changing had him spooked.

You crouch down and gently take his face between your hands. His cheeks are unnaturally warm. Closing your eyes, you reach out with your quirk to scan his vitals. What the actual fuck? Izuku’s pregenual anterior cingulate cortex is enormous. Your boyfriend is next level embarrassed. His heart rate is in the 200bpm range, which should have been impossible because it only ever got that high when he was exercising, and you were quite familiar with getting it there.

You’re honestly shocked his heart hasn’t started to palpitate with the sky-high levels of cortisol in his blood and high heart rate. Taking a deep breath, you begin to gently persuade the firing neurons near his PACC to chill, its size slowly decreases. You travel down to his hypothalamus and rearrange some of its chemical balance, so it stops producing corticotropin-releasing hormone, creating a negative feedback loop that would lead to his body to drop its cortisol production. You vasoconstrict a handful of the blood vessels in his face for good measure, hoping to cool it down. Your eyes flutter open, and the ruddiness is gone, and his cheeks feel cool against your palms. He gives you a weak smile and gosh that smile, these freckles, those lively emerald eyes. You lean your forehead against his, taking a moment to collect yourself. You kiss the tip of his nose before pulling yourself up, stretching once you’re fully upright.

“Well damn, I’m starving now. I know I said you had to cook for me, but I don’t think I’ll last. What do you say, Number 1. Hero, care to take me out to eat?”

Izuku gets to his feet, with a bit of help from Eijiro, who keeps a hand wrapped around his waist to keep him from stumbling.

“Yeah, of course, love. Just tell me where you want to eat.”

You grin in delight. Before making a decision, you turn to your two other companions. You’re not sure when Yaomomo had time to change, but she’s no longer in her hero costume.

“Would y’all like to join us? Izuku’s treat.” Your cinnamon roll’s protest is drowned out by their loud acceptance.

“I mean, if my bro is gonna treat us, then how could I say no?”

“How gracious Izuku, I’d love to share a meal with everyone.”

“Let’s get going then!” You grab Izuku’s hand and turn around, heading in the direction of the train stop. The walk will give you time to decide where you want to eat.

−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

“Hold on one sec, almost got it.” You pace next to Izuku; the pressure on your bladder almost debilitating. At the click of your front door unlocking and seeing Izuku push it open, you rush through over the threshold. You kick the heels off your feet, your slippers abandoned at the entryway as you make a break for the bathroom. You can’t get your underwear off quick enough. The relief is almost pleasurable. You’d forgotten what it felt like to pee while exceedingly inebriated. Typically when you go out drinking, you elevate your liver’s production of alcohol dehydrogenase so you can avoid getting drunk, but tonight was your birthday celebration, and you wanted to get shitfaced, so you dialed it back. Now that you’re home and not interested in a hangover, you make the necessary adjustments to your liver. The night out had been a pleasant surprise. More people had shown up than you’d been led to believe would, most importantly, your younger siblings had stopped by — you hadn’t seen them since moving to Musutafu to pursue your hero career. You finish reminiscing over the night’s events. Quickly wiping, you flush the toilet and wash your hands. When you open the door, you find your slippers are there waiting. He was a total sweetheart.

You slide your sore feet in and sigh at the fluffiness. You make your way to your bedroom, surprised to find it empty. Where had Izuku gone? You take off your earrings, dropping them into your jewelry box. Making your way to the main bathroom connected to your room, you’ve just finished wiping away your makeup when you hear the door open. You walk to the bathroom door to peek and gasp as soon as you spot the figure closing the door behind them. Now you’d be the first to admit you are a horny bitch, but never have you felt your pussy throb with such a deep longing the way it was throbbing now. You stand still dumbfounded at seeing Izuku in his hero costume in your bedroom.

“Babe?” You try to suppress the quiver in your voice.

“Ma’am,” He tilts his head in greeting, “I got reports of a villain in the vicinity. I’m Deku, and I’m here to take care of you.”

Why the fuck did he just introduce himself? And a villain? You reach out with your quirk but don’t feel an unknown presence nearby. You start to walk towards him but stop at the foot of your bed. He meets you there, and you don’t know what to expect, but it definitely was not him pushing you onto your back. You fall with a muffled thud against the comforter. You stare up at him at a complete loss. You then become hyper-aware of what you’re wearing. The sparkling strappy mini dress leaves little to the imagination, and you’re positive that from his angle, Izuku can see your panties and the growing evidence of your arousal.

“Apologies, ma’am, but I’ll be using my quirk to restrain you as a precautionary measure.” Your mouth goes dry as you watch Blackwhip manifest wrapping around your wrists, pulling your arms above your head, and adhering to your shared bed’s headboard. You have to scoot yourself back a few inches to ease the tension in your shoulders. Holy shit. He just tied you up. This whole time he’s been standing at the end of the bed taking you in. You know your face is flushed, and you can feel your nipples brushing against the material of your dress now that you’re so turned on. Izuku’s hands come into view, and that somehow gets your mouth to work again.

“What are you going to do?” You arch an eyebrow and part your lips to let your tongue dart out and wet them. Fuck Yaomomo wasn’t off the mark with her comment.

“I’ll need to do a full-body search to ensure you’re not concealing anything illegal on your person.” You don’t have time to respond before his gloved hands caress down your pinned arms, across where your neck and shoulders meet. Leaving goosebumps in their wake. He cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You groan as the sensation travels down, pooling between your legs. He moves down your sides, slowly over your exposed thighs sticking strictly to the outside of your legs until he reaches mid-calf. You feel his hands move, and suddenly their inching closer to your aching cunt. Using his right hand Izuku runs a finger teasingly up between your clothed slit and your hips give an involuntary buck. He removes his finger and tuts at you, that pisses you off.

“What the fuck Izu —” You stop yourself when you see another tendril of black materialize near your face.

“Don’t make me gag you. My name is Deku, and you will address me as Deku-sama.” There’s a finality in his tone that leaves no room for argument. You’re torn between being really fucking aroused and very vexed at this role reversal. You’d always been on top, literally and figuratively, and now here he was, your cinnamon roll, threatening to gag you and not even blushing about it. He takes your silence as understanding and begins to hike up the bottom of your dress. With your midriff exposed, he finally settles between your legs, his toned abdomen flush against you. He places an open-mouthed kiss just above your belly button, his tongue flicks out to taste your skin. Izuku’s lips continue to roam over every inch of your exposed abdomen, sucking and biting. He’s going to leave love marks all over your stomach, you’re sure. His hands travel up under your dress, coming to rest just below your breasts. You feel the flat of his tongue working its way towards his hands. When you can feel his breath tickling you already hard nipples, he pulls his face away. You squirm and pull against your restraint — you feel them tighten.

“What is it you want, villain?” Fuuuck. The word falls from his lips wrapped in sinful promise sending another steady pulse of need through your body. Your nervous system was on fire.

“I want you to touch me.” You try to taper down the pleading in your voice, but the mildly amused expression on Izuku’s face says you failed.

“Like this?” His hand runs down your neck, over your dress and through the valley of your cleavage, past your naval stopping at the band of your panties. It dawns on you that he was teasing you.

“Or like this?” You’re not sure when his gloves came off or how he managed it, but one second you’re covered by the flimsy dress material next, the straps keeping it up are torn, and the dress pulled down. You hiss at the shock of the sudden temperature change, but quickly warm up as calloused fingers massage your breasts. A greedy moan is the only answer you can manage as you arch your back into his touch. He leans closer, breath warm against your neck, and moves a hand down to grip your ass,

“Let’s see if these are illegal buns of steel.” Even with how incredibly husky his voice is, you almost laugh at his remark’s absolute absurdity. Still, having maybe foreseen your reaction Izuku wraps one of your nipples between his lips before you can utter a sound.

“Deku-sama.” You inhale sharply coming completely unwound as his tongue flicks and swirls. His mouth sucks and pulls playfully. When his teeth graze your nipple, you contemplate making your hands boneless to escape the restraints just so you could tangle your hands in his hair; even with the undercut, you knew you could make him moan. The idea is quickly dashed as Izuku releases your now overly sensitive bud with a resounding pop that sends the ache in your pussy into a frenzy. Good god , he hasn’t even gotten inside of you yet. He treats your other nipple with much the same attention. However, this time, he lets his teeth give it a gentle nibble, and the shock of the feeling causes your skin to prickle. You feel him grin at your reaction before giving your nipple a farewell lick. He captures your lips, shoving his hips down against your own, as his hands’ ghost over your neck. You hook a leg around his hip, pulling him closer, trying to create as much friction as possible as you roll your hips upward. He lets out a breathy chuckle, as his mouth moves to replace his hands. He kisses up your neck, his breath tickles your ear, and you stutter out a needy whimper.

“Someone’s eager.” You groan in frustration as he pulls back. His hands grab hold of what’s left of your dress, and you help him get you out of it. He runs a finger up your stomach, stopping just below your sternum. The tip of his index finger traces a lazy circle before leaving a trail of goosebumps back down to your hip. The pressure of his finger is replaced by his mouth, biting the flesh of your hip crease hungrily. He kisses his away across to your opposite hip, traces of his kisses wet against your skin. You feel his fingers toying with the lacy hem of your panties before he hooks them in the elastic, pulling them down. You lift your hips as they pass over the curve of your ass, and you wriggle in anticipation. Izuku braces his left forearm against your right thigh, pushing your legs wider. His index finger explores your wet folds, dipping briefly into your slit, before brushing against your swollen clitoris.

“Deku-sama, please .” You don’t care how desperate you sound, the ache in your pussy is becoming unbearable. The slow burn was killing you.

“Since you said, please.” He slips a thick finger inside of you, curling it just so it massages the soft and spongy spot that makes your toes curl and lewd obscenities fall from your parted lips.

“Aah, fuck. Fuck, yes, there, right there. More. Izuku give me more.” A second finger is roughly inserted. You cry out as a jolt of ecstasy consumes every inch of you. He begins to scissor his fingers back and forth, “It’s De-ku sa-ma,” each thrust emphasizing the syllables of his declaration. You rock your hips up, trying to get his fingers deeper because you are close. You can feel the dam getting ready to burst. When his thumb circles your clit, you feel yourself clench around his fingers. He inhales sharply. You bite back a moan as stars begin to dance across your vision. The rhythm of his fingers picks up, and the pressure on your clit begins to be too much.

“You’re about to cum.” It’s not a question, but you manage to pant a yes, and it becomes your undoing. Tongue replaces fingers before you can bemoan feeling empty, hands wrap under your thighs, keeping you exposed when they instinctively try to shut. His fingers dig into soft flesh, and the pain leaves you dizzy for more. He unhooks his left arm from your thigh, again using his forearm to keep your leg down. Two fingers spread you open, and his breath is warm, and you screw your eyes shut because fucking hell, you feel ready to erupt. You feel the warmth of his tongue as it slips inside you and starts to lick around. His nose brushes against your clit as he laps up your wetness. When he takes your clitoris in his mouth, you feel yourself at the edge of a precipice.

“Y-your fin-fingers. Deku-sama.” You frantically tug against your binds as you arch your hips rutting into his face. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You feel yourself drowning in pleasure when his fingers join back in the fray. You’re full, and his tongue is everywhere. Inside you along with his fingers, pressing in all the right places. There’s no room to be embarrassed by your body’s wet sounds as you thrust against his fingers or the sounds he’s eliciting from you — loud, throaty, and gluttonous. He laps up the juices wherever they end up, on your thighs, in your folds, the space between your pussy and ass. At your clit he teases with nibbles, quick flicks of his tongue, and long flat strokes. He was treating you like you were his favorite meal. Coming back for seconds, thirds, fourths. You lose track of time. The air crackles with electricity, Izuku, the electromagnet to your copper coils. It sparks against your skin. Were you doing that? You couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter because something was building. You feel it in your core, your quirk causing your atoms to buzz in excitement. He lets you hook your legs around his back, locking your ankles. You make a strangled noise when a particularly aggressive thrust combined with the head-splitting euphoria of Izuku’s tongue on your clit brings your Earth stuttering on its axis.

“Oh fuck, oh kami. Shit, Deku-sama!”

You flicker in and out. One second howling Izuku’s name like a prayer to the Gods, hips rolling up to meet his mouth. The next, you find yourself weightless in a void no longer in a corporeal form. What the fuck? It lasts no longer than a second before you return to your body and the sound of him cooing against your aching cunt.

“That’s it, cum villain. Cum for me.” And cum, you do. Waves of fiery ecstasy set your body aflame. You clench your fists and use your legs to pull Izuku’s face further flush against you. When you think you can catch your breath, Izuku surprises you by coaxing you into another smaller orgasm. You don’t know how he did it, but you really can’t complain, you’re feeling blissful as fuck. The bed creaks as he shifts back onto his knees, unwrapping your legs from around him. Blachwip is deactivated, and your arms fall uselessly to your sides. You feel your legs quiver from exertion, and you watch your chest rise in fall sporadically as your breathing levels off. You prop yourself up on your elbow to give Izuku a once over. He’s got a bit of sweat on his forehead, you can see the outline of his erection against the front of his hero costume, and your cum glistens on his nose, mouth, and chin. Not sure how you manage it, with your body feeling so close to putty, but you scoot back, pulling yourself up into a seated position, and rock forward onto your knees so you’re facing him.

You move closer, so your knees brush against his. Now that you’re close enough, you can see how blown his pupils are. They almost wholly eclipse the dark shamrock of his irises. He had it bad for you. You could fix that. You grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting it down to your lips so you can lick it clean. When your tongue traces the outline of his mouth, a low moan rumbles in the back of his throat. You get his mouth open with a hard nip to his bottom lip. Tasting yourself in his mouth and on his tongue makes you squeeze your thighs together briefly before you let your free hand wander between your legs to stroke your clit and moistening labia. You give the tip of his nose a cutesy peck that almost brings a blush to his freckled face, but he remains in character, so you palm his cock with your damp hand grinning devilishly when he stutters an exhale.

“I want you, hero.”

Izuku’s chuckle is rich, and you can feel it reverberate against where your chests connect. You start to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, the short buzz of his undercut tickles your fingertips. Sliding your hand up, you finally get to tangle your fist in his hair, your grip tightens, and you pull his head back, exposing his neck. Your tongue darts out to lick a stripe up to just below his earlobe, all the while your hand strokes him into fully hardening.

“I’m not fucking around, Deku.” Your voice is thick and your tone dark, dangerous. He grabs the wrist of the hand that’s between his legs and growls,

“Neither am I villain slut.” You swallow hard at his inflection on the word slut. You’d never been called a slut during sex, and under any other circumstance, you’re sure it wouldn’t have sent a thrill of arousal pulsing from your fingertips down to your toes. He brings the hand up above your head, reaching behind his head to grab your second hand. You give him a feral grin, and his eyes flash before he sends you to your back. You’re about to stretch out your legs when he commands you to flip over onto your hands and knees. You do as you’re told, biting your lip as warmth begins to once again pool between your legs. You wish you could help him out of his costume, but it sounds like your help wasn’t needed. His dick grazes against the back of your thighs. A finger follows the curve of your spine. You arch into the touch and moan when it dips at your hip to tap your clitoris.

“You’re so wet already. You villains really know nothing about bedroom decorum.” He skims a hand over your stomach, stopping to grope and tease your hardened nipples.

“Oh? Keeping a woman in suspense isn’t exactly proper in my book De-ku sa-ma.” You look over your shoulder with a smirk.

“You’re,” he thrust into you without warning, quickly turning the grin on your face into an open-mouthed ‘oh,’ “not,” he pulls out, so the tip of his head just barely touches your cunt, “a woman.” He pushes into you, swearing under his breath as you push your hips back to meet his momentum. A ragged breath escapes your lips as you adjust to him, filling you. Shit, the boy is thick. His nails dig into your hip as he continues to fuck you at a painfully slow pace. Fingers tweak your nipples, and you feel your whole body flush with pleasure. You clutch the bedsheets in two tight fists when he starts to quicken his thrusts. His chest is slick with sweat against your back, his tongue tracing circles into your shoulder. An aggressive stroke sends the head of his cock rubbing up against your G-spot, and you feel your walls squeeze around him.

“Shit, shit, fuck Deku. That’s it. Just keep putting pressure on that spot.” You feel your elbows buckle, and you expect to crash into the bed. Instead, black tendrils wrap around your arms to keep you upright. This is definitely not how Lariat intended Blackwhip’s tendrils to be used. The thought makes you giggle. It seems that this was not a sound Izuku wanted to hear coming from you. He bites down on the spot of your shoulder he’d been suckling, making his displeasure known. You feel him adjust himself behind you, perhaps too quickly, because he slips out of you, and you protest immediately with a loud whine.

“I’ll give you something to whine about.” He thrust back into you, your knees go weak, and your pussy’s stimulation begins to pull the taught rope of your impending orgasm closer to snapping. One of his hands grabs the hair at the base of your neck, tugging with just enough force to tease a guttural mewl from you.

“That’s more like it.” You’re so overstimulated, with the rhythm of his dick coming in and out of you. The attention he’s paying to your clit, you scarcely have the headspace to be shocked by the personality change. Izuku doesn’t release his hold on your hair; instead, he deactivates Blackwhip and uses the grip to guide you, so your back is flush against his chest. You can smell the muskiness of his sweat with him so close. It mingles in the air with the scent of your arousal. Sex, the whole room smelled heavily of your fucking. He brushes a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down gently. You open your mouth, taking it in, holding it gently between your teeth, your lips acting as a cushion. You suck on Izuku’s thumb, letting your tongue swirl over the tip treating it how you would if you were instead sucking on the head of his cock. You hollow out your cheek and release his thumb with a satisfying pop. Your reward is the sound of Izuku’s heated gasp. The sound tightens the coil in your groin. You feel his right hand lightly trailing up your side. You expect him to stop to cup your breast, but a tingle runs up your spine when he skips it entirely. His thumb rests a few inches under your right ear, the fleshy part of his palm rests against your trachea, the remaining four fingers occupy the same spot under the opposite ear. You can’t hide your excitement as he begins to apply light pressure to your neck. It’s amplified when he whispers in your ear,

“Whose slut are you, villain?”

“I’m yours. All yours.” He squeezes a little tighter, and you squirm, gripping his left hip for stability.

“Yours, Deku-sama. I’m all yours.” You choke over the words while he loosens his grip satisfied with your correction. The brief bout of intoxicating lightheadedness dissipates quickly, but he keeps his hand around your neck.

You feel him, hard and slick, throbbing inside you, and you know he’s close. You prepare to ride out the coming crescendo that you’ll set off with your silver tongue.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you, hero? I can feel your cock pulsing.” He squeezes your neck tighter than he has before reminding you who was in charge. You dig your nails into his hip and bite your lip. Was he turning into a masochist, or were you?

“I want you to cum in me. Make me your bona fide villain bitch — think you’re up for it, big boy?” You were being so bold, goading him. It does the trick. He releases his hold on your neck, you’re a little sad, but are swiftly distracted by a sudden burst of heat and green energy crackling, the telltale sign of Full Cowl being activated. What the hell was he up to? Your answer comes moments later when his hands push your bent legs further apart, hooking his arms under your thighs to lift them up. You feel weightless, free, and so very wanton. Then like being dosed with ice-cold water, you come back to your senses; you’ve always been terrified of being picked up during sex. Your arms flail, searching for anything to grab hold of. They settle awkwardly at Izuku’s neck. Your breathing is a little erratic.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?” Oh, he was being a total ass.

“Absolutely not.” You bite back.

“Heh.”

Sensing your discomfort, he places you back down on your knees, his hand returning to your neck — where it belonged. Shit, it was you, you’re the masochist. You feel him throb inside you, the head of his penis gets a little bigger and his cock harder. His movements become more sporadic. You take his free hand and lead it to your clit, you’d be damned if he cums before you. His groans become music to your ears, loud and ravenous as you roll your hips to meet his thrusts. Soon that’s all you can feel, like tunnel vision nothing else matters, there are no other options, but his cock burying itself deeper and deeper inside you as his fingers dance around your clit. He flicks and pulls, rubs circles, and you savor every second of it. Everything cumulates into a blinding flash of white-hot light as if you’re staring directly at burning magnesium. You hear him crying out your name, and it mixes with your carnal pleas into a cacophonous soundtrack to your mutual climax. He finishes inside you, the thick viscous liquid of his orgasm, filling you with more warmth than you anticipated. As you ride out your orgasm, you don’t stop gyrating your hips until you feel Izuku become soft. You let out a shaky breath as you come to a stop to catch your breath. You’re thankful that he doesn’t seem eager to pull out quite yet while you bask in the quiet exhilaration of having orgasmed three times this night.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay?”

You nod your head slightly, words out of reach with your euphoria’s hum still clouding your mind. Cum trickles down between your thighs, the sensation almost ticklish, but far more erotic. With nothing connecting you to Izuku, your body gives in to its exhaustion, falling forward unceremoniously. He wraps an arm around your waist, setting you gently down on your stomach. Rolling onto your back, you shimmy up onto a pillow to support your head. You glance up at Izuku and sigh in content. Hair stuck to his head, abs contracting as he slows his breathing (his heart rate close to 180bpm), and his left-hand traces the scars on his right arm absently. Even in such a worn-out state, he looked otherworldly. You lock eyes, and you pat his side of the bed next to you.

“Cuddle with me.” At hearing those three words, he sheds his façade, his eyes soften, his jaw loosens, and he eagerly obliges your request. He rests his head on your chest, your fingers playing with his hair as he gently brushes your side. You stay like this for a few minutes until he starts out of your arms like someone’s lit a fire under his ass. He sits up, you follow suit intrigued by what’s got him so worked up. You watch him reach across towards his nightstand. He pulls out a notebook and a pencil. You have to suppress your snort as he begins scribbling furiously. You couldn’t even pretend to be surprised, catching bits and pieces of his muttering.

“. . . dominated . . . choking . . . loud . . . buns of steel. . .” You can’t stifle the laugh that escapes you. He glances up and gives you a sheepish grin, his face like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“You fucked me into another dimension, jot that down in your sex notebook.” A blush erupts across his face.

“I-I what? Seriously?”

“Mhmm, as seriously as my orgasm.” Embarrassment flickers momentarily in his eyes, quickly replaced by intense curiosity. You dare say you see a little triumphant gleam too.

“What happened, tell me everything, love.” You recount what he’d been doing with his tongue and fingers. The feeling leading up to it and what it looked like in this other dimension.

“Sounds like you’ve unlocked another facet of your quirk.”

“Looks like it, but it’s not really useful.” He gives you an inquiring look; you roll your eyes. He could be so dense sometimes.

“I can’t exactly have you eating me out in public every time I want to astral project now, can I?” His blush returns full force.

“Maybe there’s another way.”

“Possibly, but I’m beat. My legs feel like jello, and I’m starting to feel sore.” You massage your neck, glancing at your exposed breasts and the marks that speckle them. Izuku looks at you with worry.

“You can’t fix it with your quirk?”

“I can, but where’s the fun in that? One of my favorite parts of sex is feeling it the next day. I’m definitely going to tomorrow and maybe the day after thanks to you.” You give him a wink and admire as he fumbles with his words.

“Oh! Well, I mean. Yeah. No problem. I think?” He was definitely back to being your cinnamon roll. You giggle quietly.

“Before I go clean up, I’ve gotta know. How did you do that.” You motion with your hand, hoping he picks up what you’re putting down. He does.

“Simple, lots of research.” You squint at him, touching the pulse at his neck. It was slightly elevated.

“Ah-huh, and what else?”

“No-nothing!” The pulse quickens a little more.

“Did you role play with someone?” The idea sounds absolutely preposterous, but when he pushes your hand away from his neck and gets up off the bed, you know you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re using your quirk, that’s not fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war. So, who was it with? Shoto? Eiji? Or was it Katsuki ?” The light hue of pink that creeps up his neck is all the confirmation you need.

“Ah,” you bob your head sagely, “it makes sense, babe, he gives off a total masochist vibe. I’d have practiced with him too. What was it like? Would he be open to a threesome? Or would it be a foursome since he’s got that not, so secret thing going with Eiji? Could I even handle the three of you?” You wonder out loud.

“(Y/N)!” Izuku rushes into the bathroom, adamantly trying to end this conversation. You weren’t letting this go, oh no siree, so you get out of bed and walk to the bathroom where Izuku’s turned on the shower and is standing under its current.

“Nice try. You’re giving me the details.” He sighs defeatedly.

“Can it wait until we’re in the bath.” You cross your arms in a huff, pouting.

“I guess.” Izuku grabs you, pulling you into the shower with him. You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. He gives the top of your head a kiss.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

Happy fucking birthday to me. You smile to yourself.

#bnha x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya smut #midoriya izuku #midoriya fic #reader is female #reader insert #midoriya fluff #the gift that keeps on giving

269 notes · View notes