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gvfgal · 1 year

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Bound- Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Twelve

A/n: We’ve made it to the end! It’s been quite the ride, and I wanna thank everyone who took the time to read this little story of mine out of the thousands other out there!! You guys are seriously amazing and have made writing this series so much fun. There’s much more to come from me, and as always, enjoy <3

Content Warnings: Angst, arguing, language, kinda mean Jake (but he makes up for it), explicit sexual content, light fingering, unprotected sex, NOT GONNA SPOIL THE REST!!!

Word Count: 5.2k

One Week Later…

My dearest Y/n, May 27th, 1973

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, then again that’s nothing new. It pains me to know that I’ve gone the past two years of my life without you by my side, and I miss you more than I can put into words.

I know my mistakes in the past led us to where we are now, and I’m so sorry for all the pain that I’ve caused you, I never wanted to break your heart. I was foolish, and immature, and I took our time together for granted.

But despite all of that, my love for you has never wavered. You’re the light of my life, babydoll, and still the reason I wake up every morning and dare to face the world.

I want you to know ,y/n, that even though I can’t change the past, I’m not giving up on us. I believe in my heart that we were bound to be together, that we’re two halves of a whole, and I’m willing to walk this earth alone until you find your way back to me. All I want from this life is you in my arms again, so I can spend the rest of my days making you happy, and proving to you just how much I love you.

Please take care of yourself, and know that I’m waiting for you.

I love you, I miss you.

Yours Always,

Jake

You slid the postcard back into its envelope and sat it with the pile of others you’d already read through with a heavy sigh. For the past week, you’d spent your time holed up at your mother’s house, experiencing all the emotions that a situation like this could put you through.

Grief, relief, frustration, happiness, fear, optimism. All of those feelings were a constant swirling storm inside of you.

In all honesty, you didn’t know when you’d get the courage to finally speak to Jake, if you’d ever find the courage at all. The last words he said to you were the biggest roadblock preventing you from facing him.

“…if you walk out that door, you might as well never look back…”

But he was there, right there. A short twenty minute drive up the road, back at his parents for a few weeks before he was back on the road again with his brothers.

You knew your window of opportunity was closing in, every day that passed was another day closer to his departure. Yet still, you couldn’t bring yourself to face him.

The air smelled of fresh rain, heavy gray clouds rolling off into the distance as the recent storm passed over. The harsh sun peeked from behind them, its light reflecting off of the dewdrops in the grass making it shine that much brighter.

That porch swing had been your anchoring spot since you’d arrived, spending every moment that you possibly could in the comfort of its gentle rocking. Your mom was very mindful of giving you your space, only popping in every once in a while to check on you when she felt it necessary.

At times, it was nice to have her company, but she knew well that what you needed more than anything in those days was peace and solitary, and you were so very thankful for her understanding.

However, it was time for one of her routine check ins. Your back was facing the door, but you heard it creak open slowly before slamming back shut.

Hopefully she has tea, you thought to yourself as you waited for her to take a seat. And ever attentive to your needs, she handed you a steaming white mug as she sat down beside you.

“Just wanted to check on you, how are you feeling? Careful, it’s hot.”

You heeded her warning and sat the mug down on the small side table, giving her a shrug, “I don’t really know,” you scoffed, “it’s like I’m feeling a whole bunch, but at the same time I feel nothing.”

Her gaze was casted into the distance, her graying hair blowing out behind her. For the first time in a while, you realized that she was really aging, and it made you think of how much time had passed, and how quickly it had done so.

“Well, do you know what you’re gonna do?” she asked.

Once again, you shrugged, “I don’t know, mama. I’m afraid this is really the end for Jake and me,” she turned to look at you, “you didn't see the look on his face when I walked out that door back in Montana, I’d never seen him like that before. I put him through absolute hell. And though it wasn’t intentional,” you shook your head, that thought being tossed into the wasteland of your mind, “what if it’s too late?”

Your mom sat up straighter, something she did whenever she was about to spew words of wisdom or encouragement. But instead, something entirely different left her mouth.

“That very well may be the case, and if it is, you can’t do nothing but accept it.”

Your head dropped. So much for that encouragement.

“But baby,” she continued, calling your attention back to her, “do you really think you and Jake could ever stay away from each other? Isn’t that what got you into this situation in the first place?”

You don't answer her, only turning to look out of the post-rain landscape as she had done before. She grabs the thin blanket thrown over the back of the swing and drapes it across the both of you, “I wanna tell you a story, of how me and your father came to be me and your father. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this story before.”

She was right, she hadn’t, and your interest was piqued. If the story had anything to do with helping your current situation, you were all ears.

You scooped up your much cooler tea from the table and tucked your knees up to your chest, giving her your full attention.

“I met your dad when I was sixteen at the spring festival they host in town every year. I’d just moved here from an even smaller town, if you can believe it, and I didn’t know a soul here. I went by myself,” she chuckled.

“Your dad saw me sitting alone, and he was the first person to come up and talk to me. He was so charming, y/n,” she grinned, “I was swoon from the moment he said hello. We spent the entire night side by side and by the time we said our goodbyes, I was sure he was the one for me.”

You smiled at that, the thought of your parents young and in love similar to the way you and Jake were.

“But, as I was waiting for your grandma to pick me up, I met Oliver Holloway, star football player of the high school team. And, boy was he something. He sat and talked with me while I waited, and by the end of that night, I didn’t know who I wanted. So… I started seeing both of ‘em, without the other knowing.”

“Mama,” you gasped playfully, causing her to chuckle. She was always a saint to you, it was hard to imagine her in such a way.

“It’s not like I wanted to see both of them at the same time, I just couldn’t choose. Each of those guys brought out a different side of me, and I liked both of them. It worked for awhile, but of course, I got caught, by your father, and he told me I had to make a choice.”

You were growing more and more interested in her story, not even aware that you were leaning in, chomping at the bits for her next words.

“I knew your father was the right choice. Oliver was nice and everything, but it was just something about your dad that I knew Oliver could never amount to, but I picked him anyway.”

You furrowed your brow, “you what?”

She nodded, “told your father to his face that I was choosing Oliver over him, not one of my better moments.”

“Well then what happened?” you pressed.

“Well, it didn’t take me long to realize that I hadn’t made the right choice after all. I was miserable without your father around, and I didn’t know how much I’d miss him until he was gone. Yes, I liked Oliver, but with your father, it was just different, I still can’t explain it to this day.”

You nodded in understanding, you knew that feeling all too well.

“When I told my friends that I thought I made a mistake, and I wanted to get your dad back, they all called me crazy. ‘You gutted him’, ‘There’s no way he’s gonna take you back after that’. And I almost believed them. But something inside of me told me that, if I didn't at least try, I’d spend the rest of my life regretting it. So I ended things with Oliver, and I went to see him.”

“He gave me a hard time at first, a really hard time. But in the end, we managed to make it work. And the rest is history.”

She placed a gentle hand on your knee giving you a small grin, “and I’m so thankful that I made that choice,” she choked out in an attempt to suppress her sobs.

“I can’t even imagine what my life would be like had I not taken that chance. I could’ve easily listened to what my friends were feeding me. I could’ve stayed with Oliver, maybe married him, and who knows, I probably would’ve had a pleasant life. But I don't think it could even amount to the beautiful life I built with your father, and I wouldn’t have gotten you, the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” her palm cupped your cheek, and you leaned into her touch.

“I miss him so much, but there’s a certain level of peace that I have knowing that I chose him, and loved him with everything in me until he took his last breaths.”

You both were crying silently now, holding each other close as the sun began to set on the horizon.

You were right, the story had helped, and you knew what you needed to do next. You refused to live your life in regret, possibly missing out on the life you always dreamed of having with Jake.

That night, you’d allow yourself to rest. But the next morning, you were going to him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jake was up early that morning, as he usually was since he’d been back in Townsend. With him taking a nice long break from drinking, and no music to occupy his time, he’d been spending his days fixing stuff around his parents property.

First was reinforcing his old abode, then it was fixing the steps to his parents front porch that had begun to wither away. Little by little, project by project, he worked himself tired so he’d sleep at night, and kept his mind occupied in hopes it wouldn’t drift to thoughts of you.

For all the good it did.

The forecast called for more rain that day, though it didn’t take a weather reporter in a fancy suit to tell him that. The looming gray clouds from the night before had returned with a vengeance, and it was only a matter of time before the rain began to fall again.

Jake had his truck backed into the space that once housed he and his brothers music equipment, now acting as a proper garage. On his ride back from town earlier, it began sputtering, something that frustrated him greatly at first, but he soon realized it’d be another project to keep him occupied.

The humidity had him working with his shirt off, his body slid underneath the hood as he tinkered away. The music that played softly blended with the sound of rolling thunder, setting a peaceful backdrop for his project, but a third sound rang out into his ears, causing him to stop all his movements.

“Jake?”

Oh shit, am I dead? He thought to himself. Surely, the truck must have fallen on him while he was working, and now, he was in heaven. It was the only way he could explain hearing your voice in that moment. How exactly he’d made it there, he had no clue.

He slowly slid from under the car, his eyes fixed in your direction as you came into his view, dressed in a white sundress.

Maybe I am dead.

But he quickly shook away the silly thought, the feeling of seeing you there felt all too real.

Your eyes scanned his body swiftly, practically drooling at the way his entire abdomen was gleaming with sweat.

He stood from the ground and grabbed a nearby rag to wipe the motor oil from his hands.

“Howdy.”

“Hi Jake,” you shuffled on your feet as you pulled your bag close to you.

Awkward silence lingered between the two of you as he stood and stared at you, not a single emotion crossing his face.

“Ho-how are you doing?” You stammered, not daring to step an inch closer.

Another roll of thunder sounded around you, and Jake shielded his eyes to look up at the threatening sky, “I’m alright,” he glanced back at you, “you?”

“Okay.”

More silence, more thunder.

“Look Jake,” you spoke up, voice cracking under the pressure, “I… I don't even know what to say. Well, first of all I’m really sorry, for everything. I know that you probably don’t even wanna see me right now.”

He wanted to agree with you, but it wouldn’t have been true. Seeing your face was the highlight of his recently empty days. But he said nothing.

“But…” you continued, trying to find the best way to arrange your words, “well I left him. I left August.”

Jake widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest, “why?”

You let out a nervous laugh, “wh-what do you mean why? You know why, Jake.”

“For me?” He scoffed, burning you with his harsh tone. You could feel tears beginning to sting at the back of your eyes, but forward you pressed.

“For us.”

“Us, huh?” He shook his head, “you didn’t seem too worried about ‘us’ when you walked out on me.”

Beginning to feel desperate, you took a step towards him, “Jake you know it—”

“Yeah, no, I get it. Complicated, right?” he gawks at you in disbelief before turning around to fumble in his toolbox. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he’d know when he found it.

At that point he’d checked out of the conversation, and you could feel your chance growing smaller and smaller. You hated that feeling, like you were suffocating slowly.

“Jake,” you peeped as tears began to slide down your face, “don’t do this, please.”

“Damn it, do what, y/n?” he shouted as he swiftly turned back to face you with eyes full of fury, “you made your choice when you left! Remember?”

You didn’t let his sudden anger affect you. Instead, you stood straighter, puffing your chest out, “you're right, I did make my choice. I chose to leave August, break his fucking heart, because I want to be with you.”

Fat raindrops began to spill from the sky, but neither you or Jake moved.

“Yeah, you wanna be with me now,” he spat, “but what about then? You couldn’t wait to get back to Nashville, back to him,” he took a step towards you and jammed a finger in your direction, “you had me thinkin’ things were finally right between us again, all for you to just snatch it away from me.”

“I couldn’t just desert him like that!” you yelled back at him, feeling your own anger beginning to surface.

“Yes you could! You just didn’t want to, because you don't really want to be with me! You just like the idea of having me chase you for the rest of my natural born life cause you know I’d do it, no questions asked.”

You couldn’t believe the words that he was saying, but rather than making you sad, they only fueled your rage.

“God, get over yourself Jake!” you shoved him in his chest, causing him to stumble backwards, “you act like you have zero fault in this! Like you didnt leave me first! It’s how we ended up here in the first goddamn place!”

Jake rolled his eyes, “oh for fucks sake,” he leaned into your face so that you could hear him clearly, “that was five fucking years ago. I apologized to you a million times, we talked about it, and even still I beat myself up for it every! Fucking! Day! Get over it already!”

“I am over it! I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t! But you’re not gonna stand here and blame me for all of this,” you threw your hands up in the air to emphasize your point.

Jake stood huffing at you, defiantly choosing not to speak, but he didn’t need to.

“Jake this is a mess,” you scoffed in disbelief, blinking away a raindrop that rested on your eyelid.

“Yeah, I know,” he bit out, “it seems like it’s always a mess when it comes to us. Which is why we’re probably better off without each other.”

He turned with nothing else, entering the shelter of the garage just as the steady sprinkle transitioned into a heavy downpour, leaving you exposed to the elements.

“Jake you don’t mean that.”

He knows he doesn’t, how could he? But he still chose to ignore you, beginning to dig in his toolbox again.

You stalk over to him, “Jake, don’t walk away from me.”

When he doesn’t respond, you grab him by his shoulder and force him to face you. He’s still fuming, staring directly into your glassy eyes.

There, he could see practically the entirety of his past. From the first moment he laid eyes on you, to catching fireflies with you at the creek. Dancing with you at the middle school dance, the longing glances he gave you across the halls in high school. The summer of 72’, and all of the bleak days that followed his departure. The bar in Nashville, Montana, oh, Montana.

He was sure that this was the end for the two of you, but still found it strange, that even looking into his eyes and seeing the past, he could also see his entire future.

“Jake I love you,” you begged, cupping his face in your hands. You were soaking wet, your dress clinging to your body as the tears continued to stream, probably looking everything like the dictionary definition of desperate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

His eyes avoided yours at all costs as his jaw clenched, but you were having none of it.

“Jake,” you push lightly on his chin to make him look at you again, “I love you. It’s always been you, there could never be anyone else for me.”

You press your lips to his, but he doesn’t kiss you back, his forehead, does though, meet with yours as he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Y/n, stop… it’s done.”

Every muscle in your body fights to cling to him, but instead, you pull away with an understanding nod. You wanted to say something to him, a final goodbye, but the shards of your broken heart stabbed at you so savagely, you couldn’t form words.

This was it, you were sure of it. The last heartbreak you could ever take.

You turned slowly to walk away, and Jake stood watching as the rain began to soak you again. He lets you get a comfortable distance away before he stops you with a call of your name.

Facing him again, you waited for him to speak or move, but he did no such thing. You felt as if this was his way of dragging out the torture just a little bit longer, but all you did was subject yourself to it. You couldn’t move, and you could hardly breathe.

Suddenly, his feet began moving towards you at a slow pace, his heavy boots splashing in the mud. But with every step he took, his speed increased, and soon you found yourself quickly moving in his direction as well. Both of you were running until your bodies crashed into each other with a forceful impact.

Jake swept you off of your feet and into his arms, his lips finding yours in a desperate and passionate kiss that knocked the wind from your lungs. With no resistance, you allowed him to hoist you up, your legs involuntarily tangling around his waist as you kissed him back with just as much ardor.

You pondered momentarily if what was happening was the end, if this was just one last kiss goodbye. You hated the thought of it, but you’d welcome it for the simple fact that you’d take what you could get. But with all the emotion that Jake was pouring into the kiss, you quickly realized that it couldn’t have even anything but a welcome home.

It’s as if it were echoing back to you your words from earlier, “I love you… It’s always been you, there could never be anyone else for me…”.

No, he didn’t say it, but you could feel it, and you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being.

His tongue delved into your mouth with urgency as he began making his way back into the house, carrying you all the way with him. Each of you were so desperate once you made it through the door, that you stopped in the small entryway, Jake propping your body against the wall as his hand began searching under your dress.

“Missed you babydoll, so much,” he panted into the crook of your neck as his tongue collected the droplets of water clinging to your skin. Your head fell back against the wall and your grip on his shoulders tightened as his fingers began tracing the outline of your underwear.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his ear, pressing your core into his touch,”I’m sorry Jakey I shouldn’t—”

“Shhhh, shh,” his fingers ghosted over your mouth to halt your rambling, and a gentle smile spread across his face, “no more apologizing. We’re done with that. Okay?”

He stroked your cheek as you stared at one another, so in love with the person that stared back at you.

“You forgive me?”

“Of course I do, darling,” he shakes his head at you, “I could never stay mad at you. Could never stay away from you. I need you too much. My girl…”

Your mouth opened to bestow the same adoration upon him, but all that escaped was a breathy moan as his fingers finally pushed past your underwear into your heat. He mimicked your reaction, a similar wisp of air leaving his mouth as he added a second finger.

“I love you Jake,” it tumbled out of you faster than you could process, your subconscious speaking for you when your conscious mind couldn’t, “I love you.”

“I know, I love you too,” his fingers were dragging in and out of you slowly as he drank in every whimper and facial expression you produced. The moment only lasted for a few more seconds before he was pulling his fingers from your warmth, hoisting you around his body again to carry you up to his room, his need to be one with you taking over everything.

His room was like a time capsule, left almost exactly how it was on that dreadful night so many years ago. But it brought you both a sense of comfort being in there again under much different circumstances, this time signifying a beginning rather than an end.

Jake sat you down on the bed gently, pulling your dress up over your head in the same movement to reveal your supple chest to him. Already without a shirt, he made quick work of his oil stained jeans and underwear. You removed your own, and within seconds of both of you becoming completely nude, Jake was on the bed and sinking himself into you.

He stiffened when you tightened around him, as if you were trying to pull him in deeper, and another strangled moan escaped you at the impact. But you welcomed all of him, with all of you.

“God, you’re fucking everything,” he grunted as his face fell into the crook of your neck, “fucking everything.”

Your bodies were pressed so seamlessly together that you were sure you could morph into one fluid being at any moment, and in a strange way, you wished you could. If it meant that you’d never have to be apart from him again, then so be it.

His thrusts were slow but impactful, sending your body reeling back with every union of your hips, as if he were trying to transfer everything her felt for you over.

“Thank you baby, thank you for coming back to me.”

You couldn’t stop the repeated whimpers long enough to respond, instead you tangled a hand into his hair, pulling his face closer to you as your body began rocking to meet his thrusts.

Your tongue searched out his neck, savoring the piquant taste of the sweat and rain combined on his skin. He shivered, and when he did his pace began to quicken, hips snapping into you like he was trying to prove a point.

“I love you,” you mewled, the only words you seemed to be able to produce, but that was more than enough for Jake. You could say it a million more times and he’d never grow tired of hearing it, ever.

His once controlled pace began to falter, signaling his approaching end, and without much thought, you wrapped your legs around his waist again.

He peeled himself away to look you in the eyes with a soporific smile, “inside, babydoll? You want me inside of you?”

You nodded, “yes. Yes Jakey please. Need it.”

His fingers began strumming at your clit, and your back arched away from the bed as you let out another loud yelp.

“You gonna cum with me?” He pressed, fingers speeding up ever so slightly, “finish together?”

Again, you nodded, one rogue tear slipping down your face, “right now.”

Jake leaned forward, kissing away the tear from the apple of your cheek before pressing his face flush against yours. The angle that this created had your stomach writing in knots, begging for that sweet rhapsody that was soon to be yours.

“I love you babydoll, I love you I love you,” he repeated, “thank you… I love you…my girl…”

With very little composure left, he gave you three more pointed thrusts before he was spilling out inside of you. The sensation of his pulsing cock was all it took for you to come undone as well, the thought of both of your releases joining in union inside of you sending an after shock of electricity through your body far after you came down.

Jake was huffing hot breaths into your ear, his body still conjoined with yours. Your legs fell from around his body, and slowly, he could feel you beginning to leak.

He looked into your eyes for conformation without a word, and your trembling arms lifted to wrap around his sticky neck.

You knew exactly what it was he was asking of you, the desperation in his expression a dead giveaway. And more than anything, you wanted to grant him his wish. It may have been crazy to some, but in your mind, you and Jake had wasted enough time apart. And now, you wanted to be his, only his, forever and in all ways.

You gently pulled down on his body so that his forehead met yours, giving him a ghost of a kiss, “all yours, Jake.”

It was all the permission he needed, and with the last bit of strength left in him, he pushed himself back into you, all of himself. You matched his movements, and the sound that the action created caused Jake to throw his head back in ecstasy.

“All mine.”

For him, it wasn’t the lewdness of the situation, but simply the symbolism of it. The thought of what could come just from those few seconds of bliss.

When he felt like the job had been done, he rolled from on top of you, but his arms quickly found yours again, pulling you close until your head was resting on his chest.

You laid there in silence, Jake staring up at the ceiling as your fingers toyed lazily with the chain of the necklace.

A small roll of thunder sounded through the quiet room, causing you to scoot a little closer to him.

“Baby,” he spoke up, barely above a whisper, “you know I didn’t mean any of that stuff I said out there. I—”

“Jake,” you stopped him, and his gaze found yours, “you said we were done with apologizing, remember?” you smiled at him, and he did the same.

“I wanna show you somethin’.”

He lifted off of the bed and began rummaging through his nightstand drawer. When his hands found the item he was looking for, he clutched it tightly and turned back to you.

Your eyes fell to the small box in his palm, and your heart rate began to quicken rapidly.

“Jake wha—”

“I bought this ring five years ago with the advance I got from the record deal,” his voice was slightly unsteady, but he was determined to see this through. He opened the box to reveal a modestly sized cut diamond.

You gasped dramatically, covering your mouth with your hand as you let him continue.

“I didn’t know when, but I knew one day that I was gonna put this ring on your finger. It was sitting there the night everything went down between us, and it’s been sitting there every day, waiting for you to come back to me.”

He took the ring from the box and removed your hand from your face, holding it securely in his own, “Y/n, I love you. And all I want is to make you my wife. So will you marry me, babydoll?”

He looked at you expectantly, so much love humming through his veins you thought he might explode, and it almost appeared as if he was afraid you’d say no.

But how could you? After all the obstacles that life threw at the two of you, a moment like this should have been impossible. Be that as it may, you were fully convinced that nothing in this world could keep you Jake and apart. Not the distance, not five years, nothing.

Some people were made for each other. Plain and simple. And you knew without a doubt that every atom of your body was made for Jake Kiszka, and his, you.

A grin began to spread across your face, “I like the sound of that.”

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Taglist: @jakesgrapejuice @josh-iamyour-mama @objectsinspvce @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock

(There were a few of you who’s names I couldn’t find, maybe bc it’s been changed, so sorry if I missed you)

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gildead · 1 year

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CONTENT WARNING: DO YOU REMEMBER THE LAST PART'S CONTENT WARNING? THIS MAKES THAT LOOK LIKE SESAME STREET. READER DISCRETION ADVISED AS FUCK. PLEASE HEED ALL TRIGGER WARNING TAGS BELOW. SERIOUSLY IF ANY OF THE TAGS BELOW ARE TOO MUCH FOR YOU PLEASE DON'T READ THIS ONE.

Part 1 Part 2 (GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING, SEE TAGS ON POST FOR DETAILS.) Part 3 (you are here!) Part 4

Somewhere on one of the many remote side routes of Johto, in a dilapidated husk of a cabin, a man slams his fridge door shut, can of beer in hand.

What a rotten day.

He was so close. So, so close to being the king of the Underground Kanjoh League. Not the one with the gyms and their stuffy rules, though, but the ones that operated at dead hours of the night, behind closed doors. The ones that were the highest risk -- and reaped the highest rewards. He was on the verge of becoming Underground League Champion, walking home richer than even that old coot Mr. Verich--

And that damn puffball ruined everything.

If it hadn't fell to his opponent's Houndoom - a Pokémon it should have been more than equipped to handle, he would've been the king. Damned thing was the weak link of his entire team. Couldn't even hit a proper Sing. Definitely wouldn't after he taught it a lesson it wouldn't ever forget.

So what if it ran away after? No sweat off his back if it bled out in the forest.

He crossed over into his living room and sneered at the Ponyta curled up on his couch. The creature stared up at him hopefully, skin clinging desperately to bones, and nudged him with its snout.

"Get offa my damn couch." When it didn't move, he grabbed a pillow and smacked it off himself. "Get-!" The pathetic thing scuttled away, whimpering.

The man sat down, cracking open his beer. No matter about the League. He'd just have to pick up a new one from his breeders and train it properly this time. Maybe even pull out the whips again, those always seemed to work. Maybe he was just too damn soft with Wigglytuff.

He lifted the can to his mouth, took a sip-- and sputtered.

It was off. Really off. Disgusting, with a metallic aftertaste lingering on his tongue. He cursed to himself as he crossed over to the sink to pour it down the drain. Upon tipping the can, however, he froze as something red and viscous trickled down into the drain.

Was that fucking blood? Oh, he was gonna be sick.

He ran to the bathroom, scaring away a few sickly Pidgey who had congregated inside. Thank Ho-Oh, he made it to the toilet on time and doubled over it, expecting to see the contents of his stomach splash within.

What he didn't expect was more blood.

He heaved himself up and crossed to the mirror. His hands flew to his mouth and forced it open. His throat fucking hurt. It was like a wild Meowth had fury swiped at his insides, causing blood to run out of his mouth and down his chin. Looking into the mirror felt like looking at the stupid creature after he was finished with it earlier, with that same dopey pained expression in its eyes.

Then his skin started to burn.

He stripped out of his clothes immediately and down to his underwear as ugly red welts spread all over his body. His back, his legs, his arms. They itched, they burned, they blistered. He let out a scream -- no, a wheeze of pain. His throat hurt that much.

He bounded over the bathroom, falling flat on his stomach as his leg twisted horribly in a way it wasn't supposed to bend. The man found himself forced to drag himself back to his living room on the ground, like some kind of wounded animal. All the while, his leg continued to contort and twist itself in a manner of directions, as if it were being squeezed out.

He reached for the couch, hoping to stabilize himself--- only to meet with the empty sockets of a putrid, disfigured corpse.

The man staggered back as the corpse's skeletonized face followed his every move, sat up on the couch despite having no limbs. Its bones clicked horribly as he did so, staring at him through its thick black hair. The corpse tilted its head curiously, watching him.

The damn thing was mocking him.

"You-!" He practically gasped out the words despite his throat being destroyed, pointing an accusing finger at the cadaver. "This is your fault-! What the hell did you do to me?"

"Nothing." It could speak too -- and in a child's voice, nonetheless. "Nothing you didn't do to them."

The man watched as his Pokémon surfaced from every room, every corner of the house. The Ponyta, the Pidgeys, even the tiny Rattatas that lived in his cabinets. Every one of them came and stared. Stared with their horrible sad eyes. Even his team members, all fully evolved and otherwise obedient to him, watched him as if casting judgment.

The man coughed up a clot of blood. "Mercy-- please, have mercy-"

"Like you showed her?" The corpse floated - floated! - off of the couch, staring down upon him. Now that he was closer, the man could tell his head wasn't a skull. The lack of nose or eyes certainly didn't help the impression, but those were definitely lips that shaped themselves into a fang-like mouth.

The man tried to retort, but found himself speechless -- perhaps out of fright, perhaps out of how raw and angry his throat felt. The... thing opened its mouth as wide as humanly possible, and then beyond. The skin around his face tore as he did so, revealing a long, wet pink tongue and wrinkled flesh within. Only a few small tendons kept his jaw from hanging limply off his face.

It let out a scream -- something far more primal and vicious than any Pokémon he'd met in his life. And in that scream were three words. Three, horrible little words that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

S H E C A N T S I N G

#MEMORIES ALL TWIST AND SHATTER. drabbles.#NO LONGER GLISTENS. gold.#animal cruelty tw #animal abuse tw #alcohol tw #blood tw #gore tw #emetophobia tw #vomit tw #body horror tw #facial horror tw #[[this guy WISHES he got jeff the killer instead.]]#[[at least jeff just kills you.]]

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justanotherfalloutauthor · 3 years

Text

The Nothing

Character: Dogmeat [#15 out of #52]

Series: Fallout 1 / Fallout 3 / Fallout 4

Song Inspiration: Parkway Drive - “The Colour of Leaving” [#881 of #3000]

Word Count: 998

TW: Animal Death, Major Character Death.

“I saw Death’s face today

As he cast his shadow over me.”

(For some reason, Tumblr has completely eaten the formatting for this one after a few reblogs. So, click here for the AO3.)

[Click here for an explanation of this project!]

#genuinely I am so sorry for this #seriously heed those content warnings please #Dogmeat #fallout #fallout 1 #fallout 3 #fallout 4 #jafafic #vault dweller #lone wanderer #sole survivor #original post date: 02 Feb 22

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bisexual-horror-fan · 3 years

Text

Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter One: "Another Average Night." Poly!Chiffany X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

OH MY GOD! OHMIGOD YOU GUYS! So! Finally! After so long, I am finally at long last starting up another long fic! I have been talking and teasing this for a fucking while and here it is! I am so excited to be starting this, the concept and idea is actually really important to me. I am bisexual and polyamous and most of the poly stuff I have written has had two male presenting people at least, my faveorite kind of poly shit has two women in it though, it is my perfered poly dynamic. Not to mention my writing as well as this fandom has been lacking in WLW content for a long ass while, this is part of me doing my part to correct it and contribute and give me more of the kind of shit I want to see. I can’t wait to see where this project takes me! I hope you all like it. No smut yet but this is me, trust me, we will get there! I can’t wait to delve into Tiffany and Chucky’s characters and explore how I think they would be in a poly relationship, I hope you all dig the ride! Big thanks to @darkestamralime and @hersweetrevenge for some help on what they think about Tiffany’s music taste. Anway, no more slacking, let’s get into it!

—

Rating. SFW. Length. 3K. Charles Lee Ray X Tiffany Ray Valentine X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Poly!Chiffany. Warnings. Basically None. Alcohol Consumption. Swearing. Smoking. That’s It.

—

You’d been living in Chicago for a few years. You weren’t born here but once you came here on vacation you kind of fell in love with the place. It was so much bigger than where you lived and grew up, so much more to do, always something going on, nearly endless ways to entertain yourself, way more options for food too. You made the call to move here a few years ago and didn’t look back, very pleased with your decision.

Sometimes you can’t sleep and you don’t have to just stay locked up inside. You can go out and find something to distract you and take up your attention until you get weary enough to trek home and pass out.

In short you felt like moving here is one of the best things you’ve ever done. You have a decent apartment, a good little group of friends, hobbies, your life felt pretty full and complete, and had a job too that worked well with your needs.

As for what that job was, you worked at a nightclub doing some waitressing, you loved that it kept your days mostly free, enjoyed the overall atmosphere, the people you would meet, and the tips were fucking ridiculous. You were damn good at what you did and you looked good doing it too. You could strike up conversation easily, were approachable on the job and a hard worker. The point is that you would go to work and do the damn thing and do it to the best of your ability.

Your hard work was recognized too, you could get shifts easily and weren’t hard up for work or money.

Speaking of, that is what you were gearing up for right now. You were finishing up having dinner, made some pasta, were eating it in front of your tv as you sat on the couch, magazine spread out on the table in front of you that you had been half flipping through. You had a decent day today, a good sleep in, some shopping, cleaning, getting coffee with a friend. If asked you’d describe it as inoffensive and average if not overall pleasant.

You have the news on but aren’t watching it seriously, you think you catch something about the crime rate rising again but you pay it no heed, your attention turning to the clock and you see you need to get a move on to be one time for work. You finish those last few bites before flipping the magazine closed and picking up your remote, you turn off the tv and stand up to bring your bowl to the kitchen. You leave in the sink and set to prepare for work, striding to the bathroom.

Did your make-up, fucked around with your hair, you actually really loved this part. Your work didn’t explicitly have a set dress code other than usually wearing black, you could usually have fun with and play around with different styles and looks. You were in the mood for a glittery metallic kind of moment, the radio you kept in your bathroom on the counter turned on, just enjoying the music as you took your time getting ready.

As soon as your make-up was done and your hair to your liking was pulled up and out of the way, worn in an unmistakably casual kind of fashion, this wasn’t exactly an upscale club that you worked at after all, you headed to your bedroom. You had a section in your closet dedicated to clothes you’d normally wore to work, you pulled out a favoured black dress, some torn tights and heeled boots, the height wasn’t insane but they made your legs look great, it was January in Chicago and there was still a lot of snow and ice to contend with.

You find your way out about five minutes later, jacket and gloves on, purse you used for work slung over your shoulder, taking the stairs quickly before crossing the lobby of your apartment building and out into the cold night air. You suppress a shiver and shove your hands in your pockets, you lived close enough that you didn’t need to take the train and on nice nights you would make the walk but on nights like this where it was so bitter and with the wind chill you’d say fuck it and take the nearest L train to your job.

The train ride is normal, the one home later on a Friday night like this would be different, much rowdier with the party crowd leaving clubs and bars.

By the time you were walking into the club you had been out of the house for only a half hour, you made great time on the commute tonight. You made your way to the back, took off your coat and hung up your bags, started prepping for your shift, greeting co-workers and the like.

The place was a busy club and soon you were waist deep in work.

Running from here to there, doing what you did, playful smiles, easy conversation, flirting a little, naturally, taking orders, serving drinks and of course, racking up those tips.

It was a few hours in and you were really in the swing of it, a tray of empty glasses you had collected from around tables while making another round taking orders, when you see someone you hadn’t previously, he must have just gotten here.

You changed course and walked over, figured you could get his order in and save some time. You came up beside his table and asked with a glance at him, “Hey, could I get you a drink?”

You were surveying the area but his laughing made you turn and get a serious eyeful. Taller than you, long hair, grey suit, black tie and a tan trench coat along with black sunglasses. He turns to look you over as he takes off those sunglasses, “Been here less than ten minutes and someone is already flirting’ with me.”

You laugh a little yourself, you are used to guys like this, attractive, confident and self assured and so you responded easily, “Mmm yeah, I am just dying to get you outta here, but how about that drink first?”

He looked you over as he hummed in consideration, arms crossed casually as he asked, “You got anythin’ really special on right now?”

“Cocktail man, eh? You want me to surprise you?” You ask with a smile and a cock of your head and he confirms as he pocketed those sunglasses, “Sounds good, just make it strong.” He said with a point and you smiled wider in response.

“On it.” You said with a nod before heading off, you could feel him looking at you but you were again used to this, the line of work you did combined with the fact that, hello, you were very attractive, meant that it was standard practice.

You stopped by the bar and put in your orders until you got to him, “Got a guy who wants something strong and special, you think you can handle that?”

The bartender, Logan, nodded and told you, a gesture to himself as he said, “Look who you’re talking to.”

“You’re the man.” You said as you took off to drop off your dirty glasses and wipe your tray down, “You know it!” He called after you.

You had a few minutes before all those drinks would be ready and took the opportunity to hit the bathroom. One thing about this job meant you had to share the same bathroom the customers used, thank God there wasn’t a line at the moment.

After washing your hands in your rush to get back outside you almost crashed into someone about to come into the bathroom. You just managed to stop yourself, hands out and immediately apologising, “Oh my God, I am so sorry-”

“No worries hon, accidents happen.” That voice, you hadn’t heard anything like that before, very husky. One word came to mind to describe it, that word being sultry.

You looked her over, tall heels, fishnet tights, an insanely short and tight skirt and matching top, chunky gothic looking jewellery and a more than an ample amount of cleavage on display. She had her nails done,sharp looking and a deep shade of purple, nice looking makeup too. Clearly skillfully applied, dark lipstick and loose almost messy blonde hair, to sum up, she was hot and well put together and if the way she was standing was any indication, she knew it.

“Right, still, sorry-” She cut you off, an apology for interrupting you as she said, “Sorry, but you work here, right?”

You nodded as you told her, “Yeah I do.”

“Great, can you tell me if the DJ is accepting requests tonight?” She asked and you told her, “Oh of course, yeah we are always taking song requests.”

She shifted her weight from one heel to the other, “Really? Cuz I’ve been here a couple of times and he never takes my requests.” She almost pouted and you wanted to fix that. And not just on an employee wanting to help a customer kind of way.

You had to admit it, she was very attractive and very much your type. Thing was you weren’t exactly out at work and tried to make a point of not getting involved with customers, especially regular ones and she mentioned she’d been here before, you should forget it. She was fucking goregous but you’ve known her for all of two seconds for crying out loud.

You were intent on helping her however.

“He can be a bit funny about that, but you tell me what you want and I will make sure he plays it.” By be a bit funny you meant that he was totally gay, you might have caught him with a busboy after closing one night and were sworn to secrecy. She was a total fucking smokeshow but she wouldn’t have much effect on him if she made an attempt to flirt to get her song played.

The image of her leaning against his DJ booth with her arms under her tits, pushing them out as he coyly asked with that sweet smile for her song to get played flooded your mind.

You quickly push it out,

She brightened at what you had said considerably, she had a great smile, “Thank you so much.”

She gave you the song she wanted and you complimented her on the choice, “Not the usual fare but we all need a good shake up now and then, seriously it’s a good pick. I kinda hate that we only play stuff from this or last year, a throw back is always welcome.”

You meant what you said, it was kind of a deep cut, in comparison to what people usually asked for here anyway, and you were honestly impressed.

She thanked you again and you returned that smile and told her, “No problem.” And you broke away, leaving her behind and going on your way back to work. Before you were out of earshot she called out, “Cute outfit by the way.”

You glanced over your shoulder and saw her looking you over and you almost stopped from the way her eyes were dragging over you. The thought that maybe-

No! No way it was like that, you shook it off and called back, “Thanks! Yours too!”

You kept on your way and sighed before muttering to yourself, “Yours too, fucking be lamer.” Pushing your less than stellar response out of your mind you stop by the DJ booth on your way to the bar and pass along your request to which, Jackson tells you, “Anything for you babe.”

You were practically work best friends, had bonded really heavily after you caught him in the act, nothing brings people together like secrets you don't want getting out.

You thanked him and then made a beeline for the bar, your drinks were ready and you needed to get them out, your little run in at the bathroom put you a bit behind and you needed to play catch up.

This is you we are talking about though, of course you could handle it. Less than ten later your tray was nearly empty again, one last drink to drop off. You come back up to him on the opposite side as you did previously. He had his coat off now, thrown over his arm as he was leaning on the standing table he was at, you set the glass down as you said, “Here you go.”

“I was starting to worry you ran off on me.” He was leaning on one elbow as he scooped up the drink with his other hand.

He was looking at you again and even in the low and flashing lights you could tell he had quite the intense stare, you wished you could tell what colour his eyes were.

Weird. You didn’t normally think that kind of thing about customers. There was something about this guy’s vibe and energy that was clicking with you.

Between the blonde bombshell at the bathrooms and this guy you had no idea what was going on with you tonight, maybe it had been too long since you’ve gotten laid?

You were pulled out of your thoughts when he all but groaned, “Oh fuck.”

A questioning look until you realised that he had tried that drink you had brought him, “Good?” You asked as you rested your drink tray on your hip and he stole another sip before confirming with a nod, “Yeah it is. I have to give it up, you didn’t disappoint.”

You asked, “You a hard guy to impress?” He shrugged with a smile, “Something like that.”

You watched as he started to fish something out of his coat, pack of smokes and a lighter, you watched as he brought one up to his lips and the lighter came up to, a click and nothing. He tries again, nothing, a few more clicks in rapid succession and you see him curse in frustration before you say, “I got you.”

He sees you holding out a lighter of your own, he takes it with a muffled, “Thanks.” spoken around the smoke in his mouth. He lights it on the first try this time and inhales deeply, hand through his hair before removing the cigarette from between his lips, you watch the tension melt out of him as he exhales out the smoke.

“You smoke?” He asked, offering up the pack and you shake your head, he asked with a gesture of his hand, “But you have a lighter?”

“I sure do.” He passes the lighter back and you slip it away into the belt you wore that held your change, pens, notepad and the rest of stuff you’d need on the job. “Never know when a customer will need a light unexpectedly.”

“Fair enough. Prepared, I like that.” He said easily before taking another sip of his drink, you could tell he genuinely liked it and that made you feel good. You took pride in your work even though most wouldn’t. Any job worth doing was worth doing well to you. “Yeah, I take the boy scouts motto to heart.”

He gave a small chuckle to that with a shake of his head, he had a good smile, one of those smiles where he didn’t hide his teeth, unashamed.

You made the decision that you liked him. Hopefully you’d see him around more.

“Anyway, you need anything else, I’m around, enjoy your night.” You said with a small wave as you headed back off to your next task.

He watched you go as he took another drag from his cig.

He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, a familiar warm weight pressing into his back, and the song playing changed, he recognized it immediately, Monitor by Siouxsie And The Banshees. He didn’t even need to look over his shoulder to know it was her, he asked, “They finally take one of your requests?”

She rested her chin on his shoulder. “Yeah, I ran into this little sweet thing at the bathrooms who works here, she offered to put it in for me.”

“Sweet thing hmm?” He teased and she confirmed as she reached over and picked up his glass, “Very sweet.” She stole a sip from his cocktail and said in shock, “Oh my God, that is so good.”

“A sweet little thing of my own who works here might have gotten it for me.” He took the glass back from her, there was a smudge of her lip colour on the rim of the glass now, he took a drink from the same place, the lipstick she wore tonight added to the flavour, hard to place, blackberry maybe? He wasn’t sure.

She asked, “Ooo, who? Point her out.” She was squeezing his shoulders and he scanned the room. He found you easily in the crowd taking orders from another table and pointed, she looked where he gestured and she laughed, “No fucking way!”

“What?” He looked at her as she finally let go of him and moved from behind him to be up next to him. “She’s the same one who I met.”

“Really?” He was actually interested and she nodded.

A moment of silence fell over them both. Music pounding from the dance floor across the club, he threw an arm around her shoulders and they both got the same thought although he vocalised it first. “Think we should get the name of that sweet little thing?”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before saying, “You read my mind.”

“I’m good at that.” He teased and she wrapped a hand around his tie asking as she pulled on it, “You sure are. Dance with me, Chucky?”

He finished his smoke and stamped it out in the ashtray in the middle of the table before putting his drink down and saying, “Sure, Tiff.”

It was a totally average night by all accounts. You finished work a few hours later, purse full of tips, tired but content on your commute home, and totally unaware that those two entering your life were about to change absolutely everything.

#AHHHHHHH #IT IS HERE #Through The Heart Is The Only Way #Poly!Chiffany X Reader #Charles Lee Ray X Reader #Tiffany Ray Valentine X Reader #Chucky X Reader #BHF writing #I hope you allll love it #TTHITOW

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touyaz · 3 years

Text

before an audience of death.

pairing oikawa tooru x fem reader; hanamaki takahiro x fem reader

word count 8,588

notes thank you to @angelamajiki for letting me join your noncon night collab! please read the other entries +here! and thank you to @hisoknen for beta-reading this ♡ PLEASE heed the warnings for this fic and do not read if any of the content is triggering for you!

WARNINGS dark/ yandere oikawa, smut, fingering (consensual), vag sex (noncon), loss of virginity, character death/ murder, violence/ abuse, body horror, blood, gore. NOT a threesome; established relationship with reader & hanamaki. reader is called girl + has she/ her pronouns. reader wears a skirt, but the length isn’t described. non canonverse au. please let me know if i have missed any warnings.

MINORS, AGELESS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY.

"So… What do you guys think?"

Oikawa thinks that Hanamaki is full of shit. He thinks that this is the worst idea Hanamaki has ever had (and there's no doubt that Hanamaki's full of those). But, he knows that this is exactly the kind of thing you would be into: a late night drive with your idiot of a boyfriend, venturing out to some stupidly dark, stupidly secluded place where you two will have all the privacy in the world to get down and dirty for the very first time — how romantic.

Oikawa would gag at the thought of you willingly spreading your legs for your shitty boyfriend, if he hadn’t already seen the way you’re sweet on him. The way you brush off Matsukawa’s ‘you can do so much better than Makki. Seriously, I’m right here.’ by describing how adorable, how perfect, your precious little Makki-kun is, how you don’t want anyone but him. It’s sickening, the way you stoop so low to defend him even if they’re just jokes, but Oikawa’s not blind to the way Hanamaki puffs his chest whenever you rave about how great a boyfriend he is.

Oikawa would be so much better, though. It’s just a fact. He’s smarter, he’s actually going somewhere in the future, he’ll settle for nothing but the best for both you and him — and, well, Makki-kun is nowhere near ideal.

He tells half-decent jokes at times, but he’s not got much else going for him. Oikawa’s much better looking — the piles of love letters he receives is evidence enough — and you always seem to laugh whenever he starts playfully whining and teasing you. So what does shitty Hanamaki have that has you crawling all over him instead of Oikawa?

Maybe you think he’s unattainable because of all those lovesick fools that throw themselves at him. Maybe you think he’s out of your league which is why you’ve settled for Hanamaki instead but, God, you can do so much better than that bastard — it would hurt less if you fell for someone like Iwaizumi who has Oikawa beat in raw power, and isn’t as much of a numbskull as your boyfriend. But no, you’re infatuated with deadbeat Hanamaki and his shitty romantic attempts.

Instead of voicing any of that, Oikawa has to plaster on a smile as sickeningly sweet as the mochi he was given just this morning, and bump shoulders with Hanamaki. His bone digs into the other man’s shoulders a bit too harshly — Oikawa hopes it bruises, hopes the pain stretches to linger for hours to come — but he covers it all up with a cheeky laugh.

“Since when were you such a sweetheart, Makki?” he teases, detesting the flush that blooms across the man’s cheeks. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“That’s what I said,” Matsukawa adds, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Our boy’s pussywhipped already, huh?”

Hanamaki throws the wrapper of the protein bar in his hand at Matsukawa, grumbling a half-hearted shut up before he turns to Iwaizumi. “Help me out here, man. Is it shit?”

Iwaizumi, as comforting and trustworthy as always, claps Hanamaki on his shoulder and gives him a reassuring grin. “I think she’d like it, it sounds good. Are you sure you’re both ready for it, though?”

Oikawa’s glaring at Hanamaki so hard he can pinpoint the exact moment that stupid blush on his face darkens from a sheer rose tint to a rouge pink. He can’t look away from how Hanamaki’s lip quivers as he stutters like a fool — Well, um, yeah, we— we, uh — and how his hand comes up to rub at his nape and how he averts his gaze, staring ardently at the fallen protein wrapper.

Oikawa can already tell he’s going to hate whatever comes out next from the man; he knows it’s going to play like a broken record in his mind until the day he dies. Despite the unadulterated fury stewing inside him, he leans in, throws a cheery little “c’mon, spill!” and eagerly waits for the response.

“We were, you know, a few weeks ago, we, uh—”

“Were making out?” Matsukawa jumps in. “Getting handsy with her, eh, Makki?”

“Shut up,” Hanamaki hisses, but that stupid rouge turns even darker, and Oikawa knows Matsukawa has hit the nail on the head. “Y-Yeah, we were kissing—”

“Just kissing?” Matsukawa chimes in again, and Oikawa hopes they can’t hear how harshly his teeth grind against one another as he forces a smile. Even Iwaizumi is fondly rolling his eyes, and Oikawa wants nothing more than for this stupid little get-together to be over with already.

The protein wrapper goes flying over to Matsukawa once more who holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, give us the nasty details, go on.”

“We were just kissing at first. And then I, like, put my hand on her— like, on her waist, and then— and then under her top, just a bit, you know?” Hanamaki’s resolutely facing the ground, a far-off, starry look in his eyes as he relives the joyous moment he’s so kindly recounting for them all. “And— And she didn’t push me away or anything, so I, like, w-went— went a bit further.”

“You sly dog,” Matsukawa teases.

Hanamaki tells him to shut up for the nth time this night, but there’s a stupid, proud little grin on his face that betrays his true feelings.

“So you went further and she was fine with it, too?” Iwaizumi asks, bringing them back on track, and Hanamaki nods his head.

“Yeah, yeah, we, um, it was good — like, really good, holy shit — but then some kids came and we stopped obviously, but, like, after that she basically said that she’d be cool with doing some more.”

“Going all the way, though? Are you sure she didn’t just mean, like, touching?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Hanamaki coughs, biting his lip as he fiddles with his shoelaces. “We, uh, touched, and, like— fuck, I’m not telling you dicks anything else, but we talked about it, okay?”

“Aw, come on,” Matsukawa goads, smirking. “Don’t be like that, give us the details! How was it, bro? Did you grab her, you know—” he trails off, raising his brows in a lewd manner as he slowly lifts his hands and cups them under his chest “—here?”

“Fuck off man, this is why no girls stick around you for long.”

Oikawa doesn’t want to know whether the stupid shade of pink on Hanamaki’s cheeks is a yes or no. He knows which answer he’s hoping for.

Thankfully, Iwaizumi cuts in once again, ever the embodiment of maturity. “Okay, well, it’s good that you both talked about it then. Make sure you check in with her before you actually, you know, go all the way. And if she changes her mind, then you stop, got it?”

“Yes, dad.”

“Fuck off. You’ve got protection too, right?”

“God, we don’t need any mini-Makkis right now.”

“Mattsun, I’m seriously gonna kick your ass. And, yeah, I got some condoms.”

“Good.” Iwaizumi nods, patting Hanamaki on his shoulder. “It all sounds great, then. Make sure you’ve got fuel in the tank for the drive, and let us know if you need any help, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks man, I will.”

“Can’t believe our little boy’s finally becoming a man,” Matsukawa teases, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “They grow up so fast.”

Oikawa doesn’t pay much attention to what happens next. He smiles and laughs when the others do and sips from his water bottle to avoid conversation, until one-by-one they all start yawning, and Iwaizumi calls it a day.

He’s thankful he doesn’t live near any of them. If he had to hear one more comment on how you’d love what Hanamaki’s got planned, he doesn’t know what he’d do; maybe he’d finally burst with the truth — that this whole idea is fucking stupid, that Hanamaki should quit while he’s ahead, that he probably wouldn’t even be able to get it up when the time comes — or maybe he’d just leave. He’d ignore whoever was there and run as far as he could for as long as he could, praying he ends up near your house so you can comfort him. That’s definitely a bad idea considering it’s likely nearing two in the morning, and you should be asleep, but there’s a part of him that wants to test that thought out, to see if you’d be willing to help him through such a tough time. He knows you’re good at charity work — you’re dating Hanamaki, for God’s sake.

The journey home is strenuous. His legs burn from how fast he was walking away, not slowing down even when he knew the others were miles away, but more than that, his mind is agonising over everything that just happened. There’s a perpetual ringing in his skull, cacophonous and biting at his ears, and he wishes it would take over his mind, white noise filtering through his head so he can forget the sick and twisted images his brain is conjuring up. You and Hanamaki locking lips is hard enough to look at, but picturing him touching you, putting his slimy hands where they shouldn’t be, thinking of you straddling and grinding on your shitty boyfriend makes his head ache.

There’s tension locked in his jaw from how hard he’s clenching his teeth, barely-contained restraint prodding at the seams of his lips, wanting to burst, wanting to explode in a violent fit of rage; he wants to yell until his throat bleeds and his larynx tears to pieces, he wants to cry and beat his fists until someone listens, until someone hears his agony and gives him what he needs, until someone lets him take and take and take until they have nothing left to give.

He sits and panics on his bed, head in his hands, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes to burn out those awful images from his mind. The roots of his hair feel like pinpricks of pain from the constant tugging, but it’s nothing compared to the state of his heart. The throbbing in his head, the stinging in his ears, the heaviness dragging his shoulders down all feel like a gentle breeze compared to how his heart cracks straight down the middle; there’s a burning sensation that festers inside of him as each string that binds his heart together is snapped, broken in two like a flimsy twig, torn apart like a fraying thread. It racks his whole body, nerves vibrating with a violent, spiteful need to set his body alight, to let him swelter in the intense blaze until it’s all he knows.

Oikawa doesn’t know what else to think other than: it hurts so fucking badly. He’s pulling at his shirt, yanking on the left side of his chest to tear out his heart, to throw it to the ground and stomp on it until he feels nothing, but he can’t. He can’t do anything more than sink his claws into his flesh until he bleeds, until there are dents marring him, his suffering engraved in his skin so he never forgets the torment you put him through.

Because it’s all your fault, isn’t it? He can’t blame Hanamaki for falling for you — God, no, because you’re so fucking perfect, of course people are tripping over themselves for a taste of your goodness. But you? You should know better. Giving yourself to some fucker like Hanamaki who wouldn’t know how to treat you right? It’s stupid. It’s downright foolish. And yet Oikawa seems to be the only one paying the price for your idiocy.

You should be the one bawling your eyes out, begging for Oikawa to give you a chance, pleading and sobbing and shrieking for him to give you the time of day, to pay attention to you. He shouldn’t be wallowing in his miseries when it’s all your fault; if only you had spent more time with him, if only you had fallen for him, if only you had loved him instead.

Oikawa looks like he’s crawled through hell and back, breaths heavy and choked, sweat and tears making a mess of his face, veins close to exploding from how ragged he feels. But there’s a wicked smile that cuts through the disaster he’s become. A sharp glint of his teeth, a crooked slant in his lips, an idea gleaming at the forefront of his mind.

You don’t know what to feel. There are so many emotions bubbling through your veins now, excitement, anxiety, desire all swirling together and pumping through you until you’re squirming in your seat, fiddling with the hem of your skirt to ground yourself a little.

This is really happening. Hanamaki is sitting right next to you, you’re dressed in the nicest outfit you could put together, and the stars are glittering above your head as he drives further out of the town.

His hand is on the gear stick shift, but when he notices the tremble in your legs, he pulls your hand over to rest beneath his. His palms are warm, a little calloused from all his time working on his truck, but it’s a welcomed roughness that soothes you easily.

“What’s up, pretty?” he asks, casting a quick glance your way.

“It’s nothing much,” you murmur, staring as the “You’re leaving—” sign grows and then fades as you fly past it. “Just nervous, I guess.”

“God, same,” he laughs quietly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, and you share the timid smile on his face. “Do you wanna, like, go back? Or—”

“No!” you reply, maybe a little too loud as his hands tighten almost immediately. “No, I, uh, I’m fine, Hiro, promise. I wanna do this with you...” you trail off, shying away when his grin becomes more confident.

“Yeah?” He sees you nod out of the corner of his eye, and he lifts your hand to place a brief kiss to the back of it, eyes not moving from the road ahead. “Gonna let me make love to you all night long?”

You snort at that. “You really think you can last that long?”

“Hey—” he squeezes your hands once more “—don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. I’ll have you begging till the sun rises, baby.”

“Oh? I’m holding you to that, babe.”

“I’ll deliver all that and more, I promise. You’re not gonna be able to walk back home after I’m done with you.”

You roll your eyes, murmuring a “you better keep that promise, mister,” and he chuckles in response.

“Scout’s honour, ma’am, hope you’ve cancelled all your plans for the next week.”

“You’re really getting my hopes up now, babe,” you reply.

“It’s not the only thing that’s up right now, babe,” he snickers, and a quick glance down has you batting his shoulder with a groan.

“God, seriously? We’re not even there yet!”

“I’m sorry! Can’t help it, baby, you look so pretty right now, can you blame me?”

You shake your head, failing to hide the grin that tugs at your lips. “You’re such a sleaze.”

“And you love me, anyway.” He leans over a little, tilting his head towards yours as he keeps his eyes on the road.

You tip your head to his, nose brushing against his cheek playfully before you pull back. “Better focus on the road.”

“Better give me a kiss, or we’re gonna go off the road,” he teases. Though the roads are empty this late, it still frightens you a tad bit when he jostles the car left and right, and you slap his shoulder as he laughs in response. “So?”

You sigh, but there’s no hesitation when you slant across the gap and gently bite the round of his cheek, instead.

He huffs quietly, scrunching his nose a little as he slows the car to make a turn. “Gonna make you pay for that.”

“Do your worst,” you grin, finally leaning over to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

You hadn’t even noticed how quickly the drive was until the car rolled to a stop and you looked out the windows to see yourself surrounded by trees.

Ribbons of moonlight, glittering and silvery, shine through the foliage, casting a cloudy haze on the ground around you. Hanamaki parks the car close to the edge of the cliff, and it offers an enchanting view of your town, buildings and parks reduced to tiny specks from your vantage point, the lights below looking like little fireflies floating around in the open air.

“We’re so high up,” you mumble, undoing your belt so you can shuffle forward, and get a glimpse of the precipice as it hangs above the city. “Are you sure this is safe? Shouldn’t we move a bit back?”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine,” he replies, rubbing gentle circles on your hand as the other turns your chin to face him. “We’re gonna be in the back, anyway. There’s nothing to worry about, babe.”

You nod and he uses the leverage he has to tilt your head closer to his, grazing his lips as he murmurs c’mere before capturing your lips in a kiss. His hand slides to the back of your neck, cradling your head as he deepens the kiss, gently nibbling along your bottom lip until his tongue peeks out to flick across it. Your mouth parts with a breathy sigh, and he takes advantage of the gap to nudge his tongue along yours, coaxing it to roll with his in a playful little dance. The spice of spearmint lingers behind as his tongue skims along the grooves of your gums, tickling the roof of your mouth before he pulls back to breathe.

A dainty line of spit hangs between the both of you. You’re panting after just one kiss, lungs heaving to catch your breath, and he smirks at the quick rise and fall of your chest. You’re still a little winded when he drags you in for another kiss, lips mashing against yours, teeth clinking against each other in his haste to feel you all over him. Your free hand tugs on his collar, fabric straining against the delicate skin of his neck as you bring him in impossibly closer.

You can feel his heart thrum beneath your hand, and when he pulls back this time, his eyes are half-lidded, much darker than before, and his breath warms the spit shining on your bottom lip.

He licks his own lip, mouth curling into a smirk as the hand cupping your head slides forward, his thumb skimming over the plush of your lower lip. "Cherry," he murmurs, eyes fixated on the wet, slightly sticky coat that clings to his thumb with each stroke. "Tastes nice."

There's a moment of quiet, where the only sounds that echo through the woods are from crickets chirping, from the wind singing to the trees. You're staring at him and he's staring at you, following the nervous bob of your throat, watching as you bite your lip until he tugs the soft skin free.

"You’re sure about this?" he asks. Even through the darkness, there’s a softness that gleams in his eyes, a shimmer that shows you just how earnest he’s being right now; you know from how he treats you with such delicacy, from how he’s never failed to put you before himself, from how he uses each passing day to declare his love for you, that there’s no one else you’d rather spend this moment with, so, when he starts telling you how it’s not too late to head back, you cut him off.

“Takahiro, I’m sure,” you interrupt, tightening the hold you have on his hand. “I want this with you. I love you.”

He nods shakily, but there’s a smile that grows on his lips — and you think he’s started tearing up, but you decide not to comment on that — before he slants forward once more, murmuring a Love you too before he kisses you softly.

Then, he tells you to sit tight, and you watch him hop out of the car and run around the hood to your side. Ever the gentleman, he opens your door, helping you out and holding your hand until you reach the back space. It’s a little unceremonious how you both take some time to spread out the blankets and pillows he’d packed to make the surface gentler, but it’s perfectly fitting for a relationship with him, and you wouldn’t change a second of it.

Once you’re settled on the comforter, Hanamaki wastes no time in capturing your lips in an easy kiss. The icy air nips at your skin as his hand creeps under your skirt — dragging it further up as he follows the curve of your leg, until it pools around your waist — but there’s an inferno kindling in your stomach the longer he steals your breath away, the more he slowly rocks his hardening length against your core.

You can almost feel your arousal pool in your panties when he groans into your mouth, when he trails his lips along the slant of your jaw and down the column of your neck, peppering kisses between his gentle nibbling. Come morning, you’re sure your body will be a mosaic made from all the colours of his love, small bites and carnal marks painting the perfect picture of his desire for you.

He strays for mere seconds to pull his shirt off, and then your own follows, up and discarded to the side, before he's bowing down to lavish more kisses along your chest. Every so often, his tongue flicks out across your dewy skin, and there's a rumble in his chest as he groans and dips for more, latching his lips over the curve of your breasts. He fumbles with the clasp of your bra, but the moment isn't ruined when he comes back with voracity, drooling over the hardened tips of your chest, sucking bruises all over your delicate skin, sinking into the soft flesh until you're covered in teeth marks and spit.

Your fingers burrow in the fine hairs on his nape, holding his face to your breasts, arching into his eager mouth, and when his hand grazes along the ticklish skin just above your underwear, your breath hitches in your throat. He calms your worries with soft whispers; with an easy murmur of “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” and a hushed “gonna take care of you, baby,” your nerves are quelled, and you feel yourself sink into the plush blanket beneath you, basking in the affections he lays on your body.

His knuckles brush along your clothed entrance in long, slow lines, back and forth, giving you a small, teasing taste of what’s to come. But, there’s not nearly enough pressure behind his movements to satisfy your budding need, and it has you softly whining his name, desperately craving more.

He hums into the curve of your neck, sweeping delicate kisses across the length of it until he can nibble at the shell of your ear and whisper, “What do you want, baby?”

“Hiro,” you whimper, bucking your hips into his touch, but he’s quick to push you back down and keep you at bay. “Stop teasing.”

“Can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he replies.

“That’s so embarrassing,” you mumble, turning away from him when he pulls back slightly to look at you.

There’s a little, fond smile on his face as he senses your nerves coming back as you squirm beneath him, as you avert your eyes and fiddle with the comforter under you.

“It’s just me,” he murmurs, dipping low to meet your gaze and brush his nose against yours in a sweet bunny kiss. “Nothing to be worried about, yeah? I wanna know what you want, wanna make you feel good.”

When he sees that you’re still a little shy, he helps you out some more.

“Let me prep you first, yeah?” He waits until you nod before continuing. “Alright, hands or mouth?”

When you register his question, you throw your hands to cover your face, and he chuckles at the groan that escapes you as you do so.

“You can’t just ask like that,” you protest, pushing him away when he leans down to litter playful kisses along the back of your hands. “You’re so… Ugh, stop laughing.”

“I’m sorry.” He grins, not looking sympathetic in the slightest and it makes you scowl up at him. “Aw, don’t look so grumpy, baby,” he teases, pecking your downturned lips. “I know just what to do to make you feel better. You trust me?”

You huff, still pretending to be annoyed by the smirk on his face, but you mumble a quiet of course to his question.

“Good,” he murmurs, tipping his head to catch your lips in a distracting kiss. You take no notice of his wandering hands until he begins easing your underwear down your thighs, until the biting air cools the wetness on your sex and your legs shiver in anticipation. "Relax for me, yeah?"

Just as a stuttered y-yeah leaves you, one of his fingers wades through your arousal, spreading it all along your folds until he reaches your clit. He litters kisses along the underside of your jaw, but it's hard to focus on his mouth when he's rubbing your little bud, a second finger joining to draw slow, firm figure-eights on it as you feel your nerves gradually spark to life.

It's an easy, languid rise to the crest of your orgasm as his motions remain unyielding. Each whimper of yours is met with a nip to your neck, each sigh of his name tells him to dip back into that pool of wetness before circling your precious bundle once more. When he thinks you're wet enough that it won't hurt, Hanamaki nudges your entrance with a hesitant finger. You're so dazed from the high of him stroking your clit, that all you can register is the sudden absence of his warmth, and you whimper his name, a timid little Hiro, please that has him cooing as he slides his middle finger into you.

"Oh, fuck," you groan together, and a moment of silence passes as you both familiarise yourselves with uncharted territory. It feels different — unnatural, almost, to have something filling you up there — but it's not a bad thing, especially not when he curls his finger and it brushes against your sensitive walls. You gasp at the new feeling and he's quick to stop, eyes racing to yours to ensure you're okay.

"Are you—?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay," you assure, "it's, um, that felt good."

"Yeah? You liked that?" It sounds like a tease, but you can tell he's being genuine by the furrow in his brow, by the slight quiver in the hand on your clit. When you nod in response, he murmurs a small "okay, good," before he repeats the motion.

There's no rhyme or rhythm to the way his hands play with your body — you're sure that, with time, he'll be much better, but the unpredictability and novelty of the situation has your mind fogging over with overwhelming pleasure. It doesn't matter that he keeps forgetting to rub your clit, not when he leans down to tug on your nipple, not when he wiggles his finger to test the stretch, and then slides a second finger inside you.

When Hanamaki does finally remember to circle your clit, you feel yourself teeter along the cusp of your orgasm. You're right there, skimming along the wave of your climax, about to tip and freefall over the edge, when his hands stop and a guttural whine scratches your throat raw.

"Hiro," you groan, uselessly bucking your hips in the air, chasing his long-lost hands, but it's futile when he sits up and holds your body down. "Why? I was so close."

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbles, gently squeezing the fat of your hips until you open your eyes. He's blurry as you blink away the lusty haze from your eyes, but there's an unmistakable yellow glow lighting up his left side. He's squinting off the side, looking into the far distance where you can't see as you're sprawled out beneath him, but he answers all the questions before they leave you. "There's a car, but I— uh, didn't hear them come up. Did you?" You shake your head, and he bites his lip before continuing. "Probably here before us, then. I'll, uh, tell them to get moving, yeah? Wait here."

"Wait, don't—" he's holding his t-shirt in his hands, focused on what you say as you follow the trails of red lines that mark up his goosebumped skin. "This doesn't— something doesn't feel right. A-About the car. We should go back, Hiro."

"Hey, hey, c'mon, it's okay," he assures, dropping his top to hold your hands instead, rubbing those soothing circles on the back of them. "It was probably a couple of kids who had the same idea as us and fell asleep after."

"They're not leaving, though," you argue, and his motions stop briefly as he mulls over his thoughts.

"Maybe they're going for another round?"

"Hiro."

"Okay, okay," he scoots you closer, and you should feel cold and a little nervous being so exposed to the frigid air, to Hanamaki’s unrelenting gaze, but you've also never felt safer, more loved, more confident than when he's looking at you with those starry eyes and he's easing your worries with the gentlest of kisses. "Don't worry, it's probably some perv hoping to see the show. I'll tell him to fuck off, okay?" He leans in even closer, arms winding around your waist, caging you in his safe haven, until you forget about the world just outside your little bubble. "And then, I'll make my sweet girl cum as many times as she wants, yeah? I promise."

"Okay," you relent, brushing back the hair that falls over his forehead, wiping away the sweat the dots across his brow, kissing the tiny smirk that curls at the corner of his lips. "Kick the creep's ass, yeah?"

Another kiss before his reply follows. "Will do, ma'am."

He throws his t-shirt on before he jumps out of the car, and you watch as he turns back and gives you a stupidly dashing grin, waving before he ventures on to the idle car. You can't make out anything in the darkness, but a sudden gust of wind reminds you of your almost-nude state, and you dive for your previously-discarded top.

The top is just over your head when you hear a pained grunt, then the crunching snaps of dried leaves and twigs. The sound of fabric tearing is hardly on your mind when you yank the shirt down and rush to the edge of the car, narrowing your eyes to try to make something out.

The car door is now open, that much you can tell, and as you hurry to it, calling out Hanamaki’s name, you notice that there's no one in the front seat anymore.

"Hiro?" You can't see anyone else in the car, and you edge around it so cautiously, flinching every time your foot lands on a branch and it breaks beneath your weight, until you reach the back of the car and your blood runs cold. You drop down to your knees, but there's nothing you can do when there’s a gaping slash running across your boyfriend’s neck. Your hands hang over the blood leaking from the wound, rivers run red with his life, but there’s no way for you to piece his torn body together; no matter how bloody your fingers get, you can’t stop those hiccuped gasps from escaping from the incision in his throat; no matter how dirty your nails get from brushing away the debris from his body, you can’t stop the sea of murky crimson from pooling beneath him, staining the collar of his shirt until you forget how blue it was before. “Fuck, Hiro, please. Please, don’t—”

“G-Go,” he coughs, breath getting stuck in his windpipe, and your heart clenches at the faint sounds of his wheezing.

Tears whip across your face as you shake your head, sobs catching in your throat as you dip your head down to his. “I can’t— Hiro, please. Just— Don’t go, fuck, please.”

“Babe—”

“Stop, please, Hiro, please. Stay with me, yeah? Hiro? Hiro, I love you. Can you— Hiro? Please don’t go, baby, please—”

“Love— ‘ve you.”

His teeth are stained and dripping, there’s blood spurting from his mouth with each syllable, but you know what he’s saying. You can feel his fingers inch closer to yours, desperately grasping onto you as his energy dissipates, wanting to feel your warmth for seconds longer, just another second, and another, another, until time itself becomes meaningless, and all he knows is your body under his fingertips.

Anguish falls from your eyes in crystal drops, adding to the gory mess on his face, soiled with dirt and blood and suffering. You don’t even know what you’re saying, wailing his name, babbling hysterically for him to stay awake for longer, just a little longer, but no matter how loud you scream his name, no matter how harshly your fingers dig into his skin, his eyes don’t stop rolling back, his grip on you gradually loosens until you’re holding him against you. There’s blood soaking the front of your top, smeared across your brows, spilling into your open mouth when you press your lips to his, praying beyond words for just a minute longer with him.

There’s nothing but unfiltered, raw pain, an interminable agony that invades your soul, that leaks into every crevice of your body, that seeps into your marrow until it’s all that you feel. There’s a ringing in your ears, but you’re searching for his heartbeat, growing desperate to hear a hopeful little badump, a gasp of breath, your name falling from his lips, but there’s nothing but the wind howling, sharing your pain, nothing but leaves crumbling beneath your tormenting hands, nothing but your own cries filling the empty spaces.

“Takahiro,” you whisper, stumbling through the syllables of his name, clutching his lifeless body to yours, clasping your hand with his, twining his fingers with yours until he’s warmer, until he knows where you are, so he can find his way back to you. “Please, Takahiro, wake up. You can’t— please, don’t leave me. You promised, Hiro, you promised we would— please, please, wake up. I need you.”

With your head on his chest, the only movement is from your heaving body as gasps and shudders rack down your spine. His blood stains the strands of your hair, bathing you in the aftermath of downfall, his skin is tainted with a death-like pallor, and suddenly, ever so suddenly, there’s a hand on your shoulder.

Time freezes.

You can’t hear the blood rushing through your veins. You can’t feel the wind rushing through your blood-soaked clothing. You can’t smell the death that lingers in the air.

But his hands are still so, so cold in yours. Both of them are freezing to the touch.

There’s ice in your veins at the realisation.

A raging fire, suddenly bursting as if the very hand that lays on your shoulder has thrown gasoline onto you, thaws the frost in your blood vessels and you whip around with a violent hand.

It’s a brutal mess, a collision of hard fists and careless kicks and throaty shrieks that grate on your oesophagus without reprieve. Adrenaline pumps through each cell in your body, invigorating you with a sudden rush to hit and punch and smack and claw at whatever you can until your knuckles bleed, until your bones are shattering to pieces, until the high slowly drains from your body and you’re manhandled to the ground, face buried in the ground just next to your lover, tears seeping into the weeds that sprout from the ground.

Your body creaks with every forceful shove, bones threatening to snap in half when he wrestles you into whatever position he sees fit. There’s mud caking the scratches littered across your cheeks, a stinging pain that jabs at the base of your spine when he pushes you further into the ground, a trilling in your ears from when he sent a right hook straight to the side of your head.

The incessant cooing is what you hear first when you come to. Muffled, from the blood clogging your canal, but it’s so sickening, such a mockery of a sweet utterance, you wish you were deaf, instead. It’s jarring to your bloody ears, but what’s worse is the hand that scopes your body, shamelessly groping and grabbing every inch of you, squeezing your frame until you’re bruising beneath the filthy hands.

The ground is unforgiving underneath you. Twigs harrow into the tender flesh of your back, stones tear apart the clothes covering you. Your energy is non-existent. Your legs feel like heavy steel, anchored to the ground with no hopes of even hovering above the ground, let alone sitting up and crawling away from your assailant. Your arms feel even weaker, thick, slimy blood surging down the length of them, aggravating the cuts that run down them.

Oikawa thinks you’ve never looked more pretty.

There’s an unfathomable beauty in destruction. A wildfire that blazes and reduces acres of land to ash is so vivid and impressive; a slashed throat is striking and bewitching in all its gory ruination. The water in your eyes is liquid gold, the blood that streams down your body is an elixir of immortality to him; you’re grimy and squalid, but your depredation tells a fascinating tale of struggle and victory — the bites across your skin may not be his, but he’ll fix that soon enough; he’ll have his blood pouring out of every cut in your body, he’ll have his flesh embedded in the grooves of your molars soon enough, he’ll have his dna trapped beneath your nails, until he is the only thing you know, until he is all you can feel.

There’s a sick gleam in his eyes, an even more wretched dulling in yours when the clouds in your eyes finally lift and you see him. You see him, his face above yours, his body pressed against yours in all the right places. You were made for him, and he, for you. There’s no doubt about that in his mind, despite the way you cry out in shame, in disgust at the realisation.

“Get off,” you yell, but you don’t push him off — it doesn’t matter that your arms are worn down to the marrow that you physically can’t move them. “Please, Oikawa, don’t do this. Please.”

You look so beautiful, crying beneath him like this. Your hair is matted with filth and rocks, but you’re looking up at him — finally, finally your attention is on him, only him. Your lips are bitten and swollen, but they taste perfect to him.

He ignores the heavy taste of copper that permeates his mouth when he captures yours in a kiss. There’s a sweetness that hides there, a cherry flavour that he chases after greedily, drinking from your mouth without pausing to breathe, devouring your lips in kiss after callous kiss. His teeth burrow in the swell of your lower lip, finding a home in the ragged skin there, tearing it apart until you bleed just for him, and he licks away the sting with soothing strokes of his tongue, with a hum reverberating into your mouth at the sharp taste.

“Perfect,” he whispers, as if it’s his most treasured secret, as if raising his volume will mean the whole world will be privy to this sacred moment. “You’re so perfect, you know that?”

You’re shaking your head, but he knows how shy you can be. He knows all about that demure nature of yours that rears its head when you should be shameless, when you should show off all that you are for his eyes only.

“You are, baby,” he insists, dipping down for another torturous kiss. “Look at you.”

His hands are rough on your cheeks; he doesn’t mind the way you flinch away from his touch, you don’t get very far.

“So pretty for me.” His thumb runs over the apple of your cheek, back and forth, back and forth, but it’s nothing like Hanamaki’s calming motions. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest hasten beneath his, can see the fearful tremble in your body, and the fire inside him stokes ravenously at his own comparison. “Look at me.”

You’re not listening to him. It’s irritating to say the least, the way you turn away from him, the way you shut your eyes and tune out his words so easily, like he means nothing to you. As if he’s the dirt soiling your pretty face, as if he’s nothing but a waste of your time, as if he hadn’t just killed a man he’d known for a decade for a sliver of your time.

His patience runs thin the longer you ignore him. He doesn’t want to do this — he always your first time together to be nice, gentle, serene — but if you want it a little rough, if you want to be a brat and ignore his kind pleas, then he’ll lay down a firm hand, break himself apart and remould himself to your liking.

Your ears ring again when he slaps a hand across your cheeks, but it’s all worth it when your eyes snap open to glare at him. He pushes down on the side he just smacked, bruising it as he shoves your head down to the ground, forcing you to stare off to the side.

“If you won’t look at me, then look at him,” Oikawa grunts. “Fucking look at him. You want me to do that to you, too?”

“Stop,” you beg, squeezing your eyes shut, banging on his chest fruitlessly. He’s immoveable above you, utterly unstoppable. He’s been wanting and wanting and wanting this moment for so long, do you really think a little pounding on his chest and a few crocodile tears will be enough for him to forget years of bending over backwards for you? Not even God could move Oikawa from his rightful place above you; no divine intervention can push him off your helpless body, and you can mutter your stupid little prayers and hope for a miracle to your heart’s content, but they’re just words spoken into a void, they mean absolutely nothing to him. Your words are slurred together as he presses you into the ground some more, but that doesn’t stop you from still running your mouth. He doesn’t mind. He loves the sound of your voice, no matter how much it warbles and rasps. “Oikawa, please. Don’t— stop, please. Please, don’t do this.”

“Tooru,” he replies, hiking up your dress until it gathers around the curve of your waist.

You’re so quick to please him when he’s running his fingers along your bare slit.

“Tooru! Tooru, stop! Please, please, don’t do this. You can’t. Tooru, you can’t.”

He hushes you easily, a smarmy little “listen to me, okay?” that has you biting your lips shut.

“We can do this the hard way” — he drives his blunt nails into the plush skin of your cheeks, a silent threat, a cautionary tale — “or, the easy way. Choice is yours, baby.”

“I don’t—”

“And don’t,” he interrupts, “tell me you don’t want this. Don’t lie to me. God, you feel so good,” he sighs, dipping two fingers in the arousal that coats the folds of your sex. “So wet for me, baby.”

He doesn’t care if it’s not for him. He doesn’t care that it was your precious boyfriend that had you creaming and close to an orgasm just five minutes ago, not when said pretty boy is serving himself up to the maggots in the ground just inches from your pliant body.

Oikawa doesn’t bother with the finer details, not when you’re quivering beneath him desperately. You’re taking too long to answer, but that’s fine. He can make the choices for you; if you want to hand over the reins to him, he’s more than glad to take control, to contort you however he pleases.

He always pictured your first time together going smoother than this. He didn’t think he’d have to fight away your knees or bat away your fists, but he’s relishing the little spark that lights up in you every so often.

He remembers the day Hanamaki told him about his first kiss with you. How soft he had described your lips to be, how sweet he said you tasted on his tongue. He thinks it’s only fair if he extinguishes the little ember that burns in you, just as Hanamaki put out his flame that day.

It’s not ideal having to use one hand to pin both your hands down, but it’s the smartest plan he has right now. With the other, he keeps your hips flat on the ground, fingers edging close to a wound on your thigh that, when he presses on it just right, has pain shooting up your body, has you crumbling under his controlling thumb.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises. “Better than he ever could, baby. Cross my heart, I’ll take care of you till the day I die.”

He wishes he could stretch you out of his fingers, maybe even dip down to get a taste of the ambrosia between your legs, but he’ll save that for another time — maybe when you’re both cleaner, alone together, and under the light of day, instead of in the middle of nowhere. He’ll make that day perfect, he promises.

For now, he raises the hand on your hip to angle his cock against your waiting hole. There's already precum pearling at the tip of the flushed head, and he drags it along your slit, wading through the mess that shines over your labia, before finally pushing the blunt head in.

There’s discomfort lining the creases of your eyes, but Oikawa’s gentle, he’s patient. He kisses away the diamonds that form at the corner of your eyes, he slots his lips against yours to distract you from the unfamiliar stretch of your sex. Inch by slow, glorious inch, he fills you, pausing when he’s bottomed out. When he’s finally all in you.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, pretty,” he reassures, mumbling against your lips. “You’re okay. Look at me. Look at me. We’re finally—” he chokes on his words, a cry stuck in his throat making him stutter through them “—f-finally together. Look at me, please.”

You’re joined together. You’re finally his, all his, just his. You’re wholly one; he begins where you end, and there’s no way for you to be physically closer to him, not when he’s burrowing his head into the crook of your neck, not when he’s grinding his pelvis against yours, not when he’s moving your legs to wrap around his waist so he can slump helplessly into your embrace.

“Fuck,” he rasps, “you’re so tight. So perfect. Been waiting for this for so long, baby.”

He revels in the warm feeling of your walls clamping down around him, cherishes the little whimpers that escape you when his hand weasels its way between your bodies, seeking out that little bundle of nerves eagerly.

He wishes he could last longer, but he’s so utterly weak for you. He’s a mere skeleton of a man when it comes to you. Experience will come with practice, so for now, all Oikawa can do is rear his hips back and then sink into you, again, again, again. His pace is languid, enjoying the flutter of your silken cunt around his cock, the feel of your pebbled nipples grazing against his chest so enticingly, the way your thighs tighten around his waist when he tilts his hips a little to the left and hits that sweet spot of yours.

And, don’t you just look absolutely captivating? You’re careening up against him, dulcet moans that you try to keep at bay spilling out of your lips nonetheless.

If there’s one admirable trait of Oikawa’s, it’s his persistence. He never knows when to give up, and soon that leisurely pace of his speeds up as he bullies that sensitive spot, as he hammers into it and has you dripping around his cock without difficulty.

“Yeah? Is that where you want it, sweetheart?” There’s a lewd, nasty squelch in the air, the heady scent of lust wafting through the air as he pumps in and out, in and out. “Right there? Fuck, fuck, that’s it, baby— shit, I’m not— I’m not gonna last any longer. Baby, please. Cum for me, please? Together, I wanna cum together.”

It doesn’t matter what you want, not when he’s circling your clit with firm strokes, not when he’s pounding relentlessly against your g-spot with unfair accuracy, not when he’s teasing the tender skin of your neck with playful kisses that betray his ruthlessness.

It doesn’t matter what you want when he holds your body in the palm of his hands, when you’re defenceless to his assault, and all you can do is lie back and take it, endure the pain, bathe in the pleasure, lose yourself to whatever emotion drains your energy the most.

Right when he feels you tighten up some more, he parts from your neck to watch you unravel. His eyes are glassy, but he can make out the gape in your mouth, watching as your eyes roll back with unabashed euphoria; his ears are attuned to the crescendo of your moans, fixated on the breathy, pitchy ah, ah, ah’s that mark your fall over the edge of long-awaited climax.

And he’s so powerless, he feels like a newborn lamb, when your pussy wraps around him so tautly he can’t pull out. He’s reduced to tears that cascade across your collarbones — not even half the man he knows he can be for you — nestling his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder, and biting down on the delicious curve as he finally cums in you.

Hot ropes of cum spurt into you, and he’s never felt more relieved. He’s never felt a high quite like this — never even come close to experiencing this sort of triumph that you’ve so easily given to him. He can’t stop touching you, can’t keep his lips away from sucking on the indents his teeth have left behind, can’t keep his fingers away from the dips of your hips, from lacing with yours, from holding you flush against him and sinking into your embrace.

“I love you,” he confesses, in between the kisses he peppers along the column of your throat. It doesn’t matter to him that you don’t respond, that you barely move underneath his body, that he can feel your tears wet the top of his head. None of that matters when he finally, finally, finally has you where he’s wanted for so long.

437 notes · View notes

adarlingwrites · 3 years

Text

Leave it to the Wind

Summary: Between deadlines, an awful transport system, and aswangs lurking about in the shadows, you have much to worry about as a college student in Manila, and it's so much that your social life is practically dead. Your wind people roommates want to help you remedy that.

Words: 9343

Relationships: The Kambal/Reader (Crispin/Reader/Basilio)

Warnings: Adult content, alcohol, brief scene of sexual harassment

Author’s Notes: God, the fandom is so thirsty for the Kambal, and so am I. Finally, some Filipino himbo representation.

The premise is: Hannah and Amie decides to play matchmaker. Hilarity ensues. Smut ensues. Please be nice, I based the characterizations of the character on the Netflix series and Trese wiki pages since I couldn't get my hands on the original comics yet oof. Some words, like terms of endearment and curse words, will remain in Filipino. Translations are provided. Reader is AFAB and is referred to with female pronouns.

Reposting this from AO3 with all three chapters in one post. A Filipino (Taglish) translation is in the works!

You don’t know how they managed to convince you, to be honest.

You rarely ever go out at night anymore. So many strange incidents transpire in Manila’s narrow streets. Just recently, you’ve heard of a new story about a tikbalang who allegedly participated in illegal street races.

So when your roommates and friends Amie and Hannah invited you for a night out, you hesitated. You gave them every excuse you can think of; you needed to do laundry, you needed to study, you needed to finish a project, and so on.

You know that the two of them are wind people, but you can’t help but think. Which of the various stories you had been hearing are real? What else in this world you haven’t witnessed yet?

“Aw, you’re such a buzzkill! Pretty please? You don’t go out with us as often. Enjoy yourself a little,” Amie whines, lying on the sofa of your living room.

On the other hand, Hannah turns to you with a mischievous grin on her face. “C’mon, get dressed already,” she commanded. “There are some total hotties we’d like you to meet! One of them might catch your eye!”

“I told you, I don’t need a relationship. You two try this every week. How do you even know so many people?” you retort, laughing softly at yourself.

“Well, our night lives are active,” Hannah retorted. “Don’t forget our sex lives!” the other added. Hearing those words, you felt your face get flushed with heat.

You needed a good fuck.

“Damn it, fine! As long as you pay for me.”

They finally got you to say yes.

As the night went on, you went to several bars, and you swore that you had explored every crevice of the city. It doesn’t help that the guy Amie and Hannah were with, a tall, dark and handsome man with flowing locks of black hair, drove like a demon. You got around quickly in no time.

Around an hour after midnight, you’re all exhausted from a night of dancing and mingling. None of the people your friends introduced to you caught your attention. At that point, you just wanted a stiff drink to unwind.

Voicing it to your drinking buddies, they nod in agreement.

“I know just the place, in Malate,” the man you’re with said. “Quiet. Discreet. I can take you there, if you want.”

“You mean The Diabolical, right? Let’s go! Text Crispin and Basilio, they might be hangin’ there too,” Amie croons.

A chuckle escapes your lips upon hearing their names. “Huh? Were they named after the characters in Jose Rizal’s novel?”

“I think so? Whatever! But seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!”

The remark made you laugh so hard, you swore you can be heard in the next city. “What the fuck! Amie, gaga ka, Sisa was their mom! The context of that scene was rough.”

Hannah’s mischievous grin spreads on her face once more, and she gently elbows your side. “Well, if you’re lucky, in this context you’d be crying their names while your eyes roll to the back of your head.”

You’ll never admit it, but you had hoped all their teasing would come true.

It didn’t take long for the four of you to reach your destination. As you enter The Diabolical, a strange chill envelopes you. The air feels different inside; it’s almost as if you stepped in a different world. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but when you looked around, you saw a duwende sitting by the bar. Or was it called a nuno? At the end of the bar, you saw them; two men both dressed in black suits. One has short hair, while the other one has longer, reaching past his shoulders. However, they’re facing away from you. Only the back of their head and part of their cheeks were visible where you stood.

You snapped out of it when the man you three are with spoke up. “I’m gonna call it a night. Have fun, you three.”

“For real? Wow Maliksi, this is the first time I ever saw you wanting to leave early. Aren’t you gonna stop by and say hi to Alex?” Hannah asks him.

“Maybe next time,” Maliksi answers back, a somber expression on his face. “Oh em gee, did you two fight? Wait, what are you two?” Amie asks.

“Whatever. It’s complicated. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Your friends nodded and let Maliksi be. He waves at your group, and heads out the door. The engine of his car roars to life, and his car screeches away.

As the car moved farther away though, it seems that the screeching of the tires turned into hoofbeats.

Perhaps it’s just your imagination.

“Amie! Hannah! Have a drink! Hey, who’s that with you? Is that the person you’ve been wanting us to meet for ages now?”

Your head turns to where the voice was coming from; one of the men in the suits, the one with short hair in particular. You finally had a good look on their faces.

Twins?

“Crispin! Meet our friend! This is…”

As Amie and Hannah introduce you to the Twins, you can’t help but stare. You took the sight of their features in; they’re tall, with broad shoulders, and hard muscle underneath that black suit and white tie ensemble. They have wide noses with a high bridge, prominent bone structure, and a prominent widow’s peak.

Merciful Bathala, they’re gorgeous.

What caught your attention the most are their eyes. They're pitch black, save for the small reflection of light.

Are these people even human?

“Stare at them like that any longer and they might melt,” Amie teases. The two of your friends are giving you an ear-splitting grin due to your reaction to the Twins.

“I, uh-” you stuttered, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t be shy. You can sit between us, miss. We’re all friends here,” the twin with the longer hair says. If the other one is Crispin, then this must be Basilio.

Behind you, your friends are already giggling. They took their places next to the twins and leaned on their biceps. Across from you, the bartender comes to take your order.

“What’ll it be, kid?” he asks.

For some reason, you’re panicking. Maybe it’s because of the alcohol in your system. Or maybe it’s because you’re sandwiched between the twins. “Uh, what would you recommend, manong?”

Laughter erupted from the twins. “Hank, she called you manong!” Basilio teases while grinning like a fucking dog. “Geez, are you really that old?” Crispin eggs him on, giving him a shit-eating grin. Hank takes a wet rag he uses to wipe down the countertop and strikes the two down. “You goddamn assholes!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing with them.

“Ow! Alright, we’re sorry, we’re sorry. Get them the best seller, Hank. We’ll pay for their tab,” Basilio says, and Hannah and Amie squeals with joy.

“Oh em gee, you boys are so sweet! Thank youuu!”

As Hank prepares you a drink, you try conversing with the twins. “You two seem fun to have as drinking buddies.”

Hank turns around to reach a bottle from the shelf. “Those two are mischievous little shits, that’s for sure. You know, when these two were kids...”

“Hey man, don’t embarrass us like that in front of our new friend,” Crispin whines.

While the three continues fucking around, you leaned back slightly to glimpse at Amie, who was trying to get your attention for a while now. She points to her phone, and you fetch yours from your bag.

You read your group chat with them. “Soooo, do you like, like them?” Hannah’s message said.

“You’re into them aren’t you? You got so shy around them, it’s so cute!” Amie’s message said.

“Right? It’s rare to see you so flustered!”

You typed away furiously at your phone, cautious to not let the twins beside you see the conversation.

“Well, they’re an improvement from the ones you introduced me to earlier. Easier on the eyes, too…”

Your friends giggled, and as their drinks arrived, they stood up. “Girl, we’re gonna leave you with them, there’s some super hot tikbalangs who just came in the bar. Byeeee!”

“Hey, wait!”

They didn’t heed your words and went to sit on the tikbalangs’ laps.

Fuck, tikbalangs are real? Is Maliksi a tikbalang too?

“And off they go, flirting with those beasts after they’ve used us for drinks,” Crispin laments, voice dripping with light-hearted sarcasm.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we got used by them though,” Basilio adds, cringing.

You can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

Basilio’s head whips towards you, sweat gathering on his brow. “Seriously?! Shit, what did they say about us?”

“All good things, don’t you worry,” you answered.

“Nah, I need to hear what they said word for word,” the twin with long hair responds. “This is making me paranoid!”

Crispin moves closer to you, Basilio puts a friendly arm around your shoulder, and you can only smile. All of you are inebriated and if you were sober, and if someone else dared to get this close to you, you might’ve slapped them. But you feel good about the Twins, and your roommates never put you in harm’s way, so your trust for them extended to the brothers, somehow.

“Just tell us already,” Crispin slurs. “Tell us what they said about us. We’re curious.”

“Fine, fine. Okay, Amie and Hannah mentioned your names when Maliksi suggested that we head here to drink. Then, I mentioned that your names came from Rizal’s novels.”

“Then Amie said,” you continued, pausing briefly to come up with an impression of your roommate’s speech. “‘Seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!’ Fuck, it was so messed up!”

“That’s messed up, alright,” Basilio sputters, his face a deep shade of crimson. “I’m this hot and those are the only details they can spare?!”

“Ok, but that Sisa joke was kind of funny though. But it was still fucked up,” Crispin adds, and he takes a sip of his drink.

“Hold your horses, the story’s not done yet,” you say. You’re starting to feel more confident around the two.

Your conversation went places, until you found yourselves drinking until three in the morning, and at that point, it’s only just the four of you in the bar; Hank, the Twins, and you. Even Hannah and Amie are nowhere to be seen. Knowing them, they probably took the tikbalangs they were flirting with back to your apartment.

They didn’t even wait for you. Looks like they’re really setting you up tonight. Maybe they wanted the apartment to themselves tonight, and they got exactly what they wanted.

You had planned on getting up to go to the restroom, but when you tried standing up, you almost fell from the chair. The Twins caught you before you landed face first against the floor.

“She’s had enough to drink,” Hank comments. They set you on a chair with a backrest. “How will she get home? We can’t send her off in a cab at this rate. The train doesn't run this late either.”

“Hannah left her behind too,” Crispin adds.

“Hey, how are we gonna deal with this?” Basilio asks. “We can get you home once we sober up a little. It’s fine if you-”

Basilio never got to finish what he was going to say, because you nodded off against his stomach, and puked your lunch out.

You don’t remember anything after that.

When you awaken, the sun is already high up, and the first thing that greets you is the fan in the ceiling. Your muscles are screaming at you, and your throat feels dry. Memories of last night came crashing back and you started sweating in horror. Maybe it’s just a drunken dream, but it felt all too real.

You were flirting with these gorgeous twins, had too much to drink, and at some point puked all over one of the twins’ shoes.

And now, you don’t know whose bedroom you are in. You check yourself, and you’re still wearing the same clothes, with nothing out of place. There are no bruises or marks on your body either. You looked around you, but there was no one else in the room.

The doors crack open slightly, and you see two pairs of void-black eyes.

“I… um… good morning?”

“It’s… already 2 in the afternoon,” one of them says. He has long hair. This one is the twin you threw up on.

“Why don’t you have some lunch?” the other one said.

You just nodded and said nothing else, ashamed of yourself. You threw up on one of them and now you’re eating at their table. You just wanted the ground to swallow you alive.

“Sorry for puking on you last night,” you near-whispered to Basilio after you swallowed your first bite of food.

The silence broke when Crispin roared with laughter, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. Meanwhile, Basilio was glaring daggers at his brother. He’s frowning like a child whose toy got taken from him. “Sure, keep laughing, kuya.”

“I’ll never show my face here again, I promise,” you say to them, hiding your face behind your hands.

“What’re you talking about? Forget about it. We’re friends now, right?” Basilio tells you, smiling. “But next time, vomit on my brother too.”

“No one’s throwing up because I won’t be allowing any of you to get wasted that bad ever again,” Hank announces as he enters the room with a carafe in his hand. “Bossing’s not gonna like it if the bar ends up smelling as bad as Basilio’s room. Here, have some coffee.”

“We should introduce you to bossing next time too. She’s not here at the moment,” Crispin adds. “Let’s do this again next week.”

The invitation made you smile, and you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You continued eating the rest of your meal.

“...my room doesn’t smell that, right?” Basilio asks after a few moments of silence.

“Gago, it stinks so bad. It’s why we made the guest stay at my room, because if she stayed at yours she could’ve died from how bad it is,” Crispin exclaims. “Seriously, how can you live with bringing women to your room at that point?”

“Kuya, you’re embarrassing me to our guest!”

Translations for non-Filipino speaking folks:

bossing: a somewhat affectionate way to say “boss”. Comes from the old tradition of adding -eng or -ing to ones name to make a nickname, e.g. Luciana - Lucing

Gago/gaga (ka): (you) idiot/moron - someone stupid, foolish or ignorant

Tikbalang: creature from Filipino mythology similar to a centaur. They are hulking beasts with a horse's head.

manong: a term for endearment to an elderly male relative, or elderly men in general. Originally an Ilokano term referring to the first born son in a nuclear family.

kuya: big brother. Can be used to refer to one's own older brother, someone else's older brother, or an older peer or male acquaintance.

Author’s Notes: This chapter was heavily inspired by Bita and the Botflies' song Manghuhula.

Warnings: brief scene of sexual harrassment

After washing up, the Twins accompanied you to the gate, exchanging glances at each other behind your back. Little did they know, you definitely noticed it.

“Wait,” Basilio says, tapping your shoulder lightly with a large hand.

Crispin takes his phone out of his pocket. His younger brother proceeds to do the same. “Give us your phone. We’ll add our numbers, and you can text us if something happens,” he says.

“Or when you get home safe,” Basilio adds.

You look at the two of them back and forth. “This isn’t just an elaborate excuse for the two of you to get my number, right?”

Neither of the two spoke, giving each other a nervous glance.

Their reaction made you laugh out loud, and you took out your phone from your bag. “Here. I’ll give you my Facespace too.”

With the tension broken, the three of you exchange a chuckle. You punch in your number in their phones, while they did the same to yours. Crispin looks over his brother’s shoulder and frowns.

“Epal,” Crispin says to his brother, snatching your phone away from him. The older twin types something in, and it’s the younger one’s turn to stick his nose in. Basilio attempts to get the phone back, cursing all the time.

“You’re going to break her phone, gago,” the older twin curses, pushing a palm against Basilio’s face. “Then let it go! You’re the epal, I wasn’t done yet,” the younger one snaps back.

You give them a look of irritation, and check out what they’re arguing about.

“What the hell are you two grown-ass men fighting about?” you ask as you butt in to look at what they’re doing.

A loud snort bubbles from you as you see it; Basilio added “the hot twin” next to his contact name. Crispin added “the hotter twin”. Now, the former wanted to outdo his older brother.

Against your better judgment, you say, “You’re twins. You look like each other. You’re both hot. Now stop fighting over my phone.”

Perhaps it’s the afternoon heat, but there is a tinge of red in their cheeks after your remark. You waved them goodbye as you got in a tricycle that’ll get you to the nearest train station.

The MRT, in some strange miraculous twist of fate, isn’t as packed as usual. It’s still populated, but there were a few seats waiting to be taken. You sit down somewhere away from direct sunlight, and you take out your phone to tell Hannah and Amie that you’re on the way home.

The first thing you see is a text from Basilio. Then, a text from Crispin. You tell them both that you’re on the train now, completely forgetting about messaging your roommates. To pass the time, you launch the Facespace app and decide to look up their profiles, only to find out that they’ve already sent you a friend request.

Upon seeing Crispin’s profile, you did your damn best to stifle a laugh.

His work description says “works at the Krusty Krab,” but that wasn’t the craziest thing about his profile. At first, the Bible verse in his bio caught you off guard, thinking that someone like him didn’t seem religious, but when you quickly looked up “Ezekiel 23:20,” you did your best not to howl with laughter.

Basilio’s isn’t any better.

In his work description, he put “Model at For Her Magazine,” and “edi sa puso mo.” Then you scroll down to see a thirst trap of him pulling his shirt up with his teeth, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks again. Well, at least that work description is believable.

They’re- what was that term your younger university friends were using again?- himbos.

They’re definitely himbos.

Arriving at your place, you slot your key inside the doorknob and twist. As you enter the door, the heavy, musky scent of sex and sweat hits your face, and you regret getting too wasted last night and losing your chance to hook up with one of the Twins.

Or both.

Both?

Regardless, at least they’ve invited you again to hang out next week.

You raise your eyebrow and cross your arms at the scene before you. Cans of beer litter the living room, and your roommates are taking a nap by the couch. A tikbalang comes out of the bathroom, glamor off, and you snort as you watch him duck under the door frame because of his massive height.

“It’s already four in the afternoon. Time to go, big guy.”

He nods awkwardly in acknowledgment, morphing into his human disguise, and exiting your apartment.

You sit between your roommates, rousing them from their sleep. “I’m not going to clean this mess up,” you tell them, motioning to the trashed state of the living room, and reaching for the remote to turn the TV on. You just want to take a shower afterwards and sleep in your own bed tonight.

After rubbing the sleep from their eyes, your roommates near-tackles you on the couch, a curious, excited look on their faces. You forgot all about what you were watching and stared at them in surprise.

“So how did it go? Did you get to hook up with any of them?” Amie asks.

“Or both of them?” Hannah adds.

“Gaga, nothing like that happened.”

The two of them let you go with disappointed looks on their faces. “So sayang! Here we were thinking you finally have a sex life,” one of them says as you lean back on the backrest, closing your eyes as they continue to pester you for details.

“Why are you two so determined to get me to screw someone?” you finally snapped, amused and irked at the same time.

“Because you’ve been doing nothing but totally stressing yourself out! See how super fun it is to let go every now and then?”

“Thanks for the new drinking buddies, girls, but I have my fingers to keep me company. Hookups are too much work,” you lie to them, eyes still closed.

“That’s a toe-curling, full-body orgasm you’re missing out on, girl!”

“That’s assuming that the person I’m with knows what they’re doing,” you retorted.

One of them pokes your side with an elbow, and you assume it’s Hannah. “The Twins do.”

You opened your eyes, and you guessed right; it’s Hannah. You give her a look, before rolling your eyes, appearing to look disinterested. The smirk tugging at the edge of your lips says otherwise, though.

“So what happened last night?” Amie asks.

“I got wasted and threw up on Basilio’s shoes. Then, I ended up sleeping in Crispin’s room. When I woke up, they fed me and sent me home,” you tell them. Your roommates giggle at the story.

“Ah, speaking of which, I gotta let them know I got home,” you said off-hand, and somehow the remark only spurred your wind people roommates on.

“Yieee, you’re friends with them on Facespace already!” Amie quips, leaning in to see what you’re typing. Playfully, you move your phone away from her to conceal what you’re typing.

“Make a group chat with them!” Hannah exclaims, taking your phone away from you. You tried taking it back, but Amie joins in the mischief and blocks you from doing so.

When you got your phone back, the deed was done, and the chat was renamed to a single eggplant emoji. The like button was replaced by an eggplant emoji too.

Panicking, you add your roommates to the group to avoid looking suspicious, and swiftly type up a defense.

“Please ignore that, Hannah made this chat using my account.”

The teasing never stopped after that.

Weeks passed and you never bothered to change it, though.

It’s been about two months since your first encounter with the Twins. You’re becoming a familiar face at The Diabolical, going every Saturday to see them. Sometimes Hannah and Amie didn’t accompany you anymore. You’ve met the Twins’ bossing a few times, who turned out to be none other than Alexandra Trese. You’ve heard of her exploits and the two imposing bodyguards who were almost always with her. It surprised you that they’re none other than the Twins you knew, but it made perfect sense. Those two were jacked, and those muscles aren’t only for show.

Of course, because of your increasing presence in the bar, it didn’t take long for the rumors to circulate. Word on the street is both of the Twins had a thing for you, and neither is making a move out of consideration for the other. They are waiting for you to move.

You elected to ignore them, perfectly happy with your arrangement of having two handsome men to keep you company while you unwind. The thought of getting together with one of them, or even both of them did cross your mind a few times, however.

Ultimately, you wouldn’t know what to do if the day comes that you’ll have to confront how you feel and choose between the two.

Do you have to?

Crispin and Basilio are twins, but they’re distinct from each other. The older is more serious, with a dryer sense of humor, while the younger is goofier, and somewhat softer. One complements the other, and they’re both good company despite their differences.

Speak of the devil. Your phone buzzes and you see that the eggplant chat is active. The Twins are inviting you to The Diabolical again.

“See you guys at eight,” you type in. Someone reacts with an eggplant to your message. Then the next few messages were nothing but eggplant emojis, followed by Basilio sending “#TeamTalong”. Crispin cusses him out for it, but sends the same message right after.

Yeah, that became a thing among the five of you.

You and the wind girls got dressed and took a taxi to the bar, your favorite jacket draped over your shoulders. Pressured by your roommates, you wore something nicer tonight; a black faux leather dress that hugs your figure deliciously. The shiny fabric added to the effect. The six bottles of Pulang Tikbalang beer the three of you shared before going out might’ve contributed to your newfound bravado.

But now that you’re actually wearing it outside your apartment, you feel a little reluctant.

“Maybe wearing this is a bad idea,” you mutter to no one in particular, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear out of self-consciousness.

Amie taps you from behind. “Oh hush, that outfit is totally sexy,” she comments. “Finally ready to get dicked down tonight, girl?”

“Shhh, gaga ka, manong driver can hear you.”

That didn’t deter them from making more inappropriate comments, much to the manong's ire.

It’s nine already when you get there, you’re in the Philippines after all. The merriment is already in full swing when you step through the door. Hannah and Amie went ahead and sat next to their lay of the week. The Twins wave you over from their usual spot, but before you can reach them, a man you’ve never seen before tries to get your attention, snaking an arm around your waist.

“Hey baby. You’re a regular here, right? Want to drink with me?”

“Sorry, I’m here with someone else,” you tell him, moving away.

“Ah, here to see the Twins? Why don’t you ditch them for a change of pace and come with me, babe?”

“Not interested,” you flat out said. “Please move, or I’ll make you move.”

To your surprise, the man drops his glamor and reveals himself to be a kapre. He looms over you, cigar in his mouth, and you can feel the tension rising. People are starting to stare, and your friends took notice of it too.

“Try,” he huffs, puffing smoke to your face. You give him a sour glare while trying not to cough.

Before your roommates or the Twins could come to your aid, you panicked and saw an empty bottle of Pulang Tikbalang on a nearby table. Emboldened by the alcohol in your veins, you shatter the bottle and point the jagged edge at the hulking beast, hands shaking. You are a tiny thing compared to the enormous creature before you, after all.

“Don’t you dare look down on me.”

“Already doing that, honey.”

“I’m not your honey,” you say as you press the edge against his stomach, not enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt.

“I love it when they fight back,” the kapre croons.

Under the haze of alcohol, you were more than ready to shove the edge in, consequences be damned.

Before things could escalate, Crispin takes the broken bottle off of your hands and steers you away from the stranger, while Basilio steps in to defuse the tension. “Hey, why don’t you back off, pal? Our friend said no. You wouldn’t want us to tell our bossing to ban you from the place because of this misunderstanding now, don’t you?”

Heart in your throat, you turn to the Twins, then to the kapre. The tree giant pauses, looking at the three of you, then smirks.

“Heh. Fine. But if you torpe whelps don’t make a move, I will.”

The giant puts his glamor back on and skulks away.

“Wow, what a jerk! He only left you alone when the boys stepped in,” Hannah quips, tossing her hair in indignation.

“You almost didn’t need rescuing, but I’d hate to help Hank mop the blood off the floor later,” Basilio comments, nudging you gently with an elbow. His eyes go a little lower from your face, and you see him look away.

You realized Crispin hasn’t let go of you yet.

“C’mon, let’s just go,” you tell everyone. Crispin proceeds to remove his hand away from your shoulder, and you take your usual seats by the bar.

The bar is loud, but the silence between the three of you is deafening. Even Hank seems to have taken notice, eyeing your usually loud and cheerful group.

“What’s up with you three? What happened back there?” the older man asks, leaning over the bar top.

“Just a handsy kapre who couldn’t take no for an answer. I won’t let it spoil the night,” you answer him.

“That’s the spirit. Holler if he tries something like that again, I’ll have him kicked out,” Hank replies, setting down three ice-cold beers in front of you guys.

Yet somehow, the conversation never livened up.

Three bottles of Pulang Tikbalang later, you’ve had enough.

“This is about what that kapre said, isn’t it?” you finally say, slightly pissed.

The Twins look at each other with guilty expressions, and simultaneously nod.

“Do you boys wanna talk about it?”

They look at each other again. “Shit, this is awkward,” Crispin comments, scratching his head. Basilio nods in agreement, uncharacteristically silent. “We didn’t want to pressure you into anything you didn’t want to do,” the older twin continues.

“Look, I don’t want to ruin my relationship with my kuya just because we’re interested in the same girl,” Basilio says. “Same here,” Crispin adds.

“So we were waiting for you to make your own move,” Basilio continues.

“Ah. So the rumors are true,” you sighed.

“We’ll accept whatever outcome there is. If you choose me, or Basilio, or neither because this is fucking messy, we totally get it,” the older twin says, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.

Now the decision rests in your hands.

“Why don’t we talk about this somewhere more private?” you ask them.

You watch as both of them gulp. “Where do you wanna talk?” Basilio asks.

“Anywhere private.”

“I just cleaned my room earlier. Why don’t we continue this there?”

You nod, and they lead you away from the bar.

Looks like it’s going to be a long night.

Translations for non-Filipino speakers:

epal: in Filipino slang, usually refers to a person who inappropriately presents himself in a situation or butts into a conversation.

kapre: a tree-giant from Filipino mythology. Often described as very tall, dark, and hairy. Almost never seen without a cigar.

sayang: literally means waste. Can be used alone as an expression similar to "what a waste!"

torpe: someone who cannot spit their romantic or sexual feelings out to a crush or love interest

III

Author’s Notes:

Warnings: Smut. Filthy smut. Writer-is-definitely-going-to-the-second-circle-of-the-Seven-Circles-of-Hell-levels-of-filthy smut. Bawal bata, tulog na. If you're under 18 please turn back.

After the door closes behind the three of you, you sit on the bed, while Crispin sits on a chair near his brother’s desk. Basilio locks the door, and leans against it, unable to look at you.

“Right. So. How are we going to deal with this?” you ask them, crossing your legs.

“Don’t ask us,” Crispin says, swiveling the chair to face you. “You’re the one caught in the middle after all.”

Curse his choice of words.

“This is too weird,” Basilio speaks up. “If you want me to unlock the door, just say the word. We can walk out of this like nothing happened.”

“And then what? Things are going to be awkward between the three of us, I just know it,” you say to him, palming the back of your neck. “Things might get awkward with Amie and Hannah too, and I live with them. I don’t want our tropa to disband just because of relationship drama.”

“What about Amie and Hannah? Is it because we have history with those two?” Crispin asks.

“They’ve been trying to set me up with either of you. The fact that they also slept with you in the past also doesn’t help. Shit, this is messy.”

“Er, um,” Basilio stutters. “That might’ve been our fault.”

You furrow your brow and cross your arms. “Keep going.”

The Twins look at each other, as if gauging who should explain the situation. “So, we remained in contact after being used as a prize for bossing’s race with Maliksi, right?” Crispin starts.

“Uh huh.”

“Well, they mentioned a third roommate in passing and joked about lending us to her. Of course we blew them off, then Amie showed us a picture of you. We got curious and asked them to introduce you,” Basilio continues.

“I didn’t expect us five to become friends. And now we’re in this mess,” Crispin adds.

You look at them back and forth, and laugh in resignation. Elbows digging against your lap and palms pressed against your face, you rub your face and run it through your hair. “Amazing. Just amazing. See, I have a problem too.”

The Twins didn’t respond, eyes fixated on you.

“I like the two of you.”

You feel the air shift around you. Basilio’s standing upright by the door now, and Crispin straightened up too. The room is so quiet, you can hear them gulp in anticipation for what will happen next.

“There. I said it. The reason why I haven’t made a move at all is because of this exact moment that I was dreading. I didn’t want to choose,” you admit, feeling the blood rush to your head. “I just wanted for us three to stay like that, drinking buddies sprinkled with sexual tension.”

“And you’re in the middle, enjoying our attention,” Crispin says, crossing his arms.

“Selfish, I know,” you admit, head hanging low.

This is it, the moment that can make or break you three.

“Us three. If only...” you whisper, only for the words to fall flat on your tongue

You stand up, gathering your things and carrying your bag. “Nevermind. What a mess we’re in. I’ll go so you two can sort things out between the two of you. It’s been a fun ride.”

Basilio doesn’t move from the door, and behind you, you can hear Crispin getting up from his seat.

“We can still make this work, right kuya?” Basilio starts, looking over your head to give his brother a knowing look.

“Yeah, I think so,” Crispin replies. “What was that you said? The three of us?”

Your eyes widen, and you look at them back and forth. Their bodies are dangerously close to yours. Now you’re literally caught in the middle.

“I- uh…”

“I think we can work out an arrangement,” Basilio whispers, one hand moving to hold yours.

“Only if you want to,” Crispin adds, his breath kissing the back of your neck.

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” Basilio adds.

“Same here.”

Damn it all.

Giving in to your darkest, most hidden desires, you lean in to capture Basilio’s lips with yours, leaving his black eyes wide open in surprise. They flutter close, and he savors the kiss, slipping a tongue in. Then you turn to Crispin, and you give him the same sweet kiss as well.

“Damn, I didn’t mean like, now,” Basilio mutters, feeling the front of his trousers get tighter as he watches you make out with his brother.

Bringing your attention back to the younger twin, you loosen his tie, while you push out your ass to grind against Crispin. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all.”

“Wait, are you sure about this? All of us drank tonight… we don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Crispin says, moving his hips away from you. Basilio pauses too, and wraps his hands around your wrists to still your hands, a look of concern on his face.

“Kuya’s right.”

“I’m a grown woman. I might’ve had a few bottles, but I know what I want,” you reassure them, waiting for the two to make a move. “I know I want you two for months.”

Basilio lets go of your hands and lets you do as you please, a cocky smirk on his lips. Behind you, you can feel Crispin’s gloved hands reaching for the zipper of your dress. “Really? How much do you want us? C’mon, say it,” Basilio asks, moving in to place kisses on your neck.

“I wanna hear it too,” Crispin whispers against your shoulder, and he punctuates it with a light kiss.

All of a sudden, you felt shy at the prospect of confessing your fantasies out loud. “Why don’t I just show you boys?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one,” Basilio teases. “Consider it as payback for throwing up all over my shoes.”

“You’re still- ah!- mad about that?” you ask him, gasping in the middle of doing so when you felt a hand snake between your legs from behind. The older twin slips his fingers past your underwear, circling your clit with slow strokes.

“Not mad, I just want things to be fair,” Basilio teases, pulling your dress down. He gives your breasts a squeeze, fondling and rolling your nipples until they harden, and he seals his lips over your right one. Crispin moves from behind you and he takes his place next to his twin, lathing his tongue over the left. All four of their hands pawed at your flesh greedily.

You were at a loss for words because of how good they’re making you feel, soft moans bubbling from your throat.

“Speechless already, huh?” Crispin mumbles against your skin.

“Ngh! The wind girls weren’t lying, you two know what you’re doing,” you gasped, face flushed as you watched the Twins lavish their attention on your breasts.

“Shhh, stop changing the subject. Play along, or neither of us will make you cum,” he adds, pausing to give you a teasing lick, and resting his tongue on top of the hardened bud. On the other hand, Basilio is sucking like a starved babe while squeezing your still clothed behind.

You fake a scoff of indignation and grin. “Fine. I- oh fuck- want you two so much, I’ve been fantasizing for weeks.”

Basilio pauses to address you. “Describe them.”

You’re a little mortified, but the alcohol in your system pushes you to be bolder. “I imagined Basilio punishing me for ruining his shoes.”

“And how did he do that?” Crispin’s voice.

“He asked me to suck him off,” you start, and a pinch on your bottom from the subject of your fantasy tells you that he wanted to hear more details. “He fucked my face while pulling my hair and told me how good I was the whole time and that he forgave me.”

“What about me? What fantasies did you have?” Crispin asks again.

Your breath hitched in your throat but you pushed on. “Hearing how you scolded Basilio, I imagined you taking me from behind and saying the meanest, dirtiest things possible.”

The Twins looked at each other, and stopped, their lips leaving your breasts with a lewd pop. “You want to make them all come true?” Basilio asks.

Cheeks burning, you give them a curt nod.

The two of them lead you to the bed, where Crispin puts you on all fours, and he takes his place from behind. On the other hand, Basilio is standing near the edge of the bed, the bulge in his pants inches away from your face. You stare at it, licking your lips.

As you undid Basilio’s pants, he shrugs off his suit jacket and takes off his tie, then he takes off his dress shirt, revealing his abs and the trail of dark hair on his lower abdomen, disappearing into his briefs. From behind, you hear fabric shifting, then Crispin peels your panties off of you. He brings a gloved hand against your skin in a loud smack, making you cry out.

“Ah, wait, we need a safeword,” Crispin mentions, soothingly squeezing your skin.

“What about Eternos?” Basilio suggests, and Crispin cocks an eyebrow. “Wait, you mean, like the game?”

You stifle a laugh. “I’m fine with it,” you say to them, and they take it as a signal to continue.

The older twin dips a gloved finger between your folds, gathering your wetness, and tsked. “Look at you, already so fucking wet. You want this so much, huh?”

You nod frantically, then Basilio stills your head. “Open your mouth, baby. Tongue out.”

You oblige, and Basilio fishes his cock out of his briefs. Your eyes grow wider as you take in the sight of it; girthy, with a nice length, and a few veins running on the underside. You wonder if Crispin’s is the same. The twin in front of you lightly smacks his member against your tongue, and you proceed to lick it, running from the base to the tip, slicking it with saliva. You swirl your tongue around it, then try to slide it in your mouth as smoothly as possible.

As Basilio begins to breathe harder with each bob of your head, Crispin pulls your ass towards his face, and a choked moan escapes your lips as you feel his mouth on your heat, toying with your folds before he finally finds that sensitive nub. The older twin proceeds to lick and suck at it, eating you out like you’re the best damn meal of his life.

Meanwhile, you push a palm against Basilio’s thigh to make him pause, and before he can ask you if you’re fine, you take his balls in your mouth and fondle him with your tongue. Your hand pumps his neglected cock as you did so.

“Shit! Your mouth feels so damn good,” he hisses, breathing hard. When you take his dick back into your mouth, Basilio gathers your hair and uses it as a handle, watching his length disappear in your mouth over and over, his black eyes hazy with lust and his mouth whispering words of praise.

Crispin looks at his brother with a hint of envy, cock painfully hard against his trousers. He unzips it for relief, and proceeds to stroke himself as he continues to prepare you.

“Hey, Basilio, got any lube?”

“Um, there’s- ungh- a bottle of it under the pillow.”

“...you keep lube under your pillow? What the- and condoms? Can’t you put them in your drawers or something?”

Basilio doesn’t give his brother a response and focuses his attention on you. You gasp against his cock as you felt a cold, gloved hand prod against your asshole, and goosebumps formed on your flesh as you felt the cold lubricant smearing against your entrance. Crispin pushes his lubed thumb in, and you cry out in pleasure, your jaw opening wider for Basilio to claim. Then, two more fingers prod at your pussy, and you swear you can see stars as they slid in. The older twin toys with you while eating you out, and you feel a knot forming at the base of your stomach, threatening to uncoil at any moment.

You couldn’t take it. Basilio’s cock slides out of your mouth and you look over your shoulder, moaning and panting.

Crispin pauses from eating you out to ask you a question. “You’re gonna cum? You wanna cum on my fingers like the filthy slut you are?”

“Yes, please, please, let me cum,” you begged, and with a devilish smirk, Crispin dives right back in to finish the job.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure inside you exploded, shameless moans coming from your throat as your first orgasm hits you. Basilio watches the look of pleasure on your face as Crispin makes you cum, making his cock twitch.

“Now that’s how you please a woman,” Crispin teases, shooting his brother a challenging look while wiping your juices off of his face.

“Wait until it’s my turn,” Basilio replies, smirking.

Panting, legs wobbling, you didn’t get to rest as Crispin takes his cock and slides it in you. In front of you, Basilio cups your face and directs you back to his cock, smirking. “You’re doing so well, baby. You’re taking us like a champ, you know that?”

“Fuck,” Crispin hisses from behind you. “You like this, you little slut? You like being fucked by two cocks at the same time?” he asks you, each word punctuated with a hard thrust.

Now you’re really caught in the middle.

Basilio’s panting heavily now, his thrusts becoming erratic against your mouth. You know he’s close, and you brace yourself for what’s coming. Eyes screwed shut, he lets out a low groan as he spills inside of your mouth, his cum painting your tongue white. You try to swallow it all, but a few stray drops dribble down your chin. The younger twin cleans you up, and kisses you deeply, not minding his taste on your mouth. He sits on the bed to catch his breath, and allows you to rest on his thighs.

Behind you, Crispin begins to rut faster, his thumb still in your ass as he pounded you. You writhe and cry against Basilio’s lap, bracing yourself from each harsh thrust. The younger twin pets your hair, but he moves his hand away when Crispin pushes your head against his brother’s lap.

“Take it all of it,” Crispin groans. “Ungh, you make me so horny, you little slut.”

Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Basilio gets an idea.

“Hey, kuya. Hold her up.”

Crispin blinks before obliging his brother’s request, clamping a hand around your throat. “Is this fine?” he asks you, and you nod a few times. He tightens his hold and pulls you to his toned chest, your hair sticking to his skin from your sweat. Basilio kisses you, then latches on one of your breasts. One gloved hand fondles and pulls at your nipples, while the other moves south to stroke you.

“Ah! I think I’m gonna cum again…” you choked, face red and tears forming at the edge of your eyes.

“Say our names,” Crispin whispers against your ear in a low growl.

You mutter their names at first, but it turns to full blown cries as your climax fast approaches.

“Crispin! Basilio!”

It hits you so hard, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You cried shamelessly, and Crispin places a kiss on your open mouth, tongue slipping in and teeth clashing with yours. He pulls out and finishes on your back, cock resting between the valley of your cheeks, still half-hard.

The Twins move to clean you up, looking around for tissues and anything to wipe you with.

“So,” Basilio says. “One more round?”

Your eyes widen, and you look down to see that Basilio is hard again.

“How- what the fuck? What are you two?”

Crispin sighs. “Hannah and Amie never told you? We’re demigods.”

“We don’t get sick and our injuries heal really fast. Talagbusao is our dad,” Basilio adds, and you give him a disbelieving glare.

“You didn’t need to let that last detail slip out, gago,” Crispin berates him as he pulls you close to his muscular chest. He lay down on a pillow, one arm propping his head up.

After a few seconds of silence, you say something. “At least let me have some water first.”

“Right.”

The Twins stare at each other.

“One of us has to fetch it,” Crispin says.

“What? Why me?” Basilio complains, scratching his head.

“Because I’m older, and I’ve worked hard to give her two orgasms in a row.”

“Hey! I’m sure that last one was thanks to me.”

You groan, grabbing a pillow to cover your face. “Ugh, please don’t turn this into a competition about who made me cum the most. Just get me my water, pretty please, Basilio?”

At the request, Basilio smiles and dresses haphazardly to get it for you. “Don’t start without me.”

You close your eyes with a smile. Crispin buries his face against your hair and plays with it. “You have him wrapped around your finger, you know?”

You chuckle at the remark, and Crispin kisses your temple. “Just don’t hurt my little brother.”

“I have no intention of hurting either of you,” you tell him.

Basilio comes back with a pitcher and some glasses, and once everyone’s hydrated and ready, the night continues.

The Twins spoil you with their attention, hands roaming your body as they planted kisses on your skin. Basilio sucks on your collarbone, biting experimentally and leaving marks that would darken in the morning, which draws a whine from your throat. Not wanting to be outdone, Crispin kisses your back, then the back of your neck, and he found a sweet spot that made you moan at that place where your ear connects to your neck. Basilio observes this and does the same to the other side.

“Hey, um, can I do it in your ass?” Crispin whispers in your ear, almost sheepishly, and you stare at him for a few seconds before nodding.

“Sure. Be gentle. And use a condom.”

“Of course. You go on top. What’s our safeword again?” he asks you, testing your knowledge.

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Eternos.”

“Good girl,” Basilio says.

Flipping yourself around, you lean into Crispin’s lap. “Here, let me help,” you say as you grasp his cock and start to pump. The younger twin behind you reaches for the lube and prepares your ass. You sigh with pleasure as you feel the cold sensation of the product on your skin. Crispin sighs as you slide his length between your lips, head bobbing up and down, and you feel him grow inside your mouth. You give the tip a small lick before doing the same thing you did to Basilio, cupping his balls with your mouth and fondling them with your tongue.

“I want you now,” Crispin rasps, tugging your hair to get you off of him.

You smirk, turning around to give him a great view of your ass. He reaches around for a condom, finds one, and tears the foil open. After sliding the rubber down his shaft, he positions himself against your hole, pressing against the tight ring of muscle. You wince in pain as he starts penetrating you, prompting him to squeeze more lube to relieve your discomfort.

“Relax,” Basilio instructs you, planting soothing kisses at your jaw. You did as he said and unclenched your muscles, entrusting yourself to the two of them.

As Crispin pushes past the ring of muscle, you sigh in relief, discomfort replaced with the feeling of fullness. You lean back into his hard chest, a soft sigh leaving your lips as he starts to move. Meanwhile, Basilio kneels between your legs, rubbing your clit with the head of his dripping cock, but he freezes before he slides it in.

“What?” you ask with concern.

“We’re out of condoms.”

“Just pull out,” you tell him with a strained voice, gasping as Crispin moves inside you.

“No, you don’t understand. We’re demigods. Our… um.. Yeah, we’re really potent.”

You smirk at him. “I’ll ask the girls for something in the morning,” you say against your better judgment. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Cum all over me.”

His cock twitches at your last suggestion.

“Ugh, Basilio, you’re really killing the mood here,” Crispin strains to say, holding you gently by the neck. “I pulled out too, remember? Make up your mind already. I wouldn’t mind having her to myself for now, though.”

“Not a chance,” Basilio retorts, sliding the tip of his cock past your folds and pushing inside.

A loud cry rips from your throat at the sensations, feeling stuffed to the maximum as two cocks start to pump inside you. Crispin’s grip on your neck tightens, while you tangle your hands through Basilio’s hair, pulling him closer and kissing him.

Soon, The Twins find a steady rhythm, syncing their movement so you can feel the full force of their thrusts. Basilio throws one of your legs over his shoulder and begins to massage your clit with his thumb, while Crispin fondles your breasts with his free hand, using the tip of his fingers to roll, squeeze, and pull at your nubs. With every thrust they give, you clench, drawing a groan from both of them as they felt themselves being squeezed by your muscles.

“Oh God,” you whine. “Fuck, you both feel so good.”

“Say our names,” Basilio growls, and you oblige.

You chant their names like a prayer, underscored by the slapping of skin as the Twins fucked both of your holes. Hearing their names only spurred them on, and their movements became more desperate, sweat rolling off of your bodies.

“Basilio! Crispin!”

Underneath you, Crispin gropes at your breast harder, beads of sweat rolling off of his forehead and dripping to your skin. “Your ass feels too good, I’m gonna cum,” he hissed between clenched teeth, and you silently thank Bathala that he’s near his limit. The lube is starting to wash off.

With a few more rough thrusts, he cums, shooting inside the rubber. Crispin cups your jaw and kisses you, deep and sweet, tasting your tongue. You’re on the verge of climax now too, and you give Basilio a desperate look. He understood what you meant.

The younger twin thrusts harder and faster while still rubbing that sensitive nub between your legs furiously, and the older one helps by stimulating your nipples once again. The bombardment of sensation is too much, and you feel white hot heat racing through your body as you cum one last time, voice hoarse as a throaty moan escapes past your open mouth.

The spasm of your muscles is enough to send Basilio over the edge too, pulling out of you and spilling his load all over the mound of your pussy, and your stomach. You feel Crispin slip out of you too. Basilio leans in to kiss you, almost tenderly, but still full of desperation, tongue and teeth.

After a quick cleanup and another drink of water, the three of you lay in a heap of limbs, exhausted. Crispin doesn’t shift at all, content on letting you lie next to him, while Basilio moves next to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them on the narrow bed.

Everyone is sated, and with your eyes growing heavy, you wanted nothing but sleep.

“So, who’s better?”

You don’t know who said it, but you raised your hand to give him a middle finger. “Tangina niyo, you’re both good. End of discussion. Now please let me sleep.”

Thank Bathala that they did.

The next morning, all three of you wake up sweaty, stinking, and really, really hungry.

“Good morning to you two,” you sigh, snaking your arms around theirs. Each of them gave you a kiss on your temple. “Damn, I’m starving,” you said, sitting up. “Let’s take a shower and grab something to e-”

Underneath the three of you, the bed’s legs give out, and a loud thud can be heard throughout the house. As you three scramble for purchase, frantic footsteps are approaching, and the door bursts open.

“What was that? Crispin is missing from his room and-” Hank blurts, toting his good ol’ triple barrel shotgun "Ama, Anak, at, Espiritu Santo". Funnily enough, when he sees the tangle of limbs before him, he utters the same words and quickly turns away. Alexandra arrives shortly after, gives them a quick glance, and shuts the door.

Breakfast with their bossing is filled with a mortifying quiet.

You barely touch your food, embarrassment burning your cheeks, and you shoot a glance at your twin lovers.

“Next time, lock the door,” Alex finally says, getting up from the table with a coffee in her hands. She’s too fucking exhausted to deal with this.

“It’s Basilio’s fault!” Crispin yells after her. Basilio made no attempts to defend himself, knowing that he forgot to lock the door again after he came back with the water.

Grumbling, you finally take a bite of your breakfast, jacket draped over your shoulders despite the heat to hide the bruises on your body. “The girls are gonna have a field day when they see me like this.”

“I need to replace the bed,” Basilio mumbles, stuffing his mouth with rice.

The three of you looked at each other, and laughed.

“So, see you next week?” Crispin asks with a smile, and Basilio gives you a pleading, doe-eyed look.

“Yeah. See you two next week.”

Translations for non-English speakers:

tropa: ground of friends. People you chill with

tangina niyo: Filipino profanity. Roughly translates to "you sons of bitches"

Ama, Anak, at Espiritu Santo: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It’s Hank’s weapon’s actual name in the comics.

482 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 3 years

Text

go the distance

(will you) go the distance

— You’re perfectly content in life except for the fact that you are not dating Deku. When his best friend won’t help you out, you turn to the dark side to get what you want.

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pairing: pro hero!midoriya izuku x bad villain!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, manga spoilers, pro hero!au, villain!reader, ofa usage for sex lol, size difference, manhandling, public sex, slight degradation and praise, deku eats his cum outta ya pussy, big dick deku, corruption but make it opposite, deku is a pervert change my mind

word count: 12,715

a/n: well, yall already knew I wanted to make this fic a reality, so here it is for bnharems villain collab!! check out all the already amazing stories if you haven’t already. thank you to kara, sky, and jo for reading this for me because lmao im ass rn. I’m gonna go to bed because I partied a bit too hard last night.

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your quirk: distortion – can make afflicted persons vision shift 6 cm to the left or right at the cost of having their own vision shift the same way

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“Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcasted rumors of a villain running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures, and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning.

“Road maintenance endeavors to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

“Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

“Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved, but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city, please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.”

The female reporter closes her eyes, despite still being on the air, her eyebrows furrowed as she exasperatedly sighs.

“Was that good enough, Mirage?”

You look at her with a pout, your eyes then clenching shut as your lips move with unsaid words as you motion for the cameras to stop rolling. You tilt your head right and left, muttering a bit.

“Did that seem better to you this time? I don’t know, I don’t think it was scary enough...”

You open your eyes to see the exasperated reporter looking at you as if she personally sought to end you right where you were sitting.

“You are the worst villain I’ve ever encountered,” she deadpans, and you laugh in agreement.

You weren’t really a villain.

If you must put a label on what you were, you would say that you were the best PR head any hero agency could ask for. You were, after all, the top student graduate from UA’s Business Course and had been ushered into a condensed agency the moment you were finished taking your graduation pictures.

And well, if you are actually curious about the… villainy, you would like to uphold and continue to stress that you weren’t a villain! You were just a public nuisance – like those stupid YouTubers – with the ability to garner Pro Heroes’ attention! People had no reason to scoff at what you did on the daily.

You took both of these jobs very seriously!

It was like being straight out of a comic for you!

A simple – hopefully should the heroes you’re in charge of not be stupid – nine to five job by day, and a badass, crime-committing, sexy as shit villain by night! How could anyone ever hate you for your lifestyle! How could anyone ever hate you?!

But we are all noisy people, and everyone wondered just why you became a villain because you had a beautifully stable job with an impressive salary! Why would such an amazing woman such as yourself dabble in the evilness of humanity?

Well, you did have an answer for the public.

“Why do you engage in evil, villainous schemes?” the reporter deadpans, absolutely and utterly not being paid enough to humor you in this forced interview.

The public loved drama, pizazz, a little showmanship even from what they deemed humanities worst! So, you told the world why you chose to be evil instead of good:

“Because I want to be!” you grin, flashing a pose as you make your away from the interviewer you had very much illegally forced to interview you. “And because a hero killed my cat!’

Of course, that was a lie! Why would you ever hand over the real reason as to why you decided to become a villain! You’d be laughed right out of Japan, possibly be murdered by a horde of fangirls!

For you see, there was one reason and one reason alone as to why you decided to take your place within the villainy hall of fame. Why you chose to do more in your day outside of your already demanding job.

And that one reason was: Pro Hero Deku, civilian name Midoriya Izuku.

Now, trying not to come off as some creepy, weirdo, stalker fangirl, you could fully admit that you were in love with the stupidly large hunk of a man that debuted as an official pro a year before you graduated from high school.

You remember how the world was finally recovering from the year-long nightmare that had ensued. To be honest, you were stupidly surprised you had even managed to graduate, given that most of schooling had become somewhat of a joke.

FIVE YEARS AGO, MARCH, 2XXX:

It had been in the evening, the clear blue sky becoming ruby red and blood orange as you made your way out of campus. The air somehow smelled of sweet hay and gasoline, but you didn’t mind. There was hardly anyone out at this time, most students had made their way home already, and the only sounds were the moving cars of businessmen just trying to get back home.

There really wasn’t any reason to suspect anything to go wrong, this was a simple daily walk back home after school that wasn’t like any other. But then there had been a loud pop, an ever louder screech, and finally, you managed to whip your head in time to see a car tumbling through the air straight at you.

There was hardly any time to think, even less to react, and the only thing you knew was that you were not going to survive.

You braced yourself, eyes clenching and body curling, your mind screaming because this was not going to be the way things ended. But before it could happen, before the car could come down upon you and squish you like a bug under a shoe, something picked you up and you were weightless.

Waiting for an impact that never came, the tears that were endlessly streaming down your face were suddenly stopped by rough, warm fingers smoothly wiping them away.

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re safe now!” a voice says softly to you, endearingly warm and comforting. “I’m here, don’t worry.”

“Am I… did I die?” you whisper, unsure if you even want the answer, your eyes remaining closed because you refused to open them up to some angel that could confirm your death. “God, what an embarrassing way to die!”

“Oh – um, no! You’re not dead! I promise!” the voice laughs brightly, just softly enough that you believe him and not be entirely horrified by the amused reaction. Your eyes crack open slowly, just barely peering back into the world, still half praying you weren’t dead. But all you saw was green.

Green eyes, green hair, green clothes.

You blink, once, twice, realizing only then you were staring into the eyes of a boy about your age.

He had curly hair, freckles littering his face, and eyes that easily pierced through your very soul.

Without meaning to, your breath stopped, frozen in your lungs as you were captivated by a handsome man with a curving, beautiful smile.

“See, I told you it was okay!” he teased you, head cocking to the side as he grinned largely.

The action itself seemed to strangle the strangest noise out of your mouth as you realized suddenly and immediately that your face was burning and all you could think was:

A cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, acuteherorescuedme!

“Sorry about that scare! I would’ve caught that car sooner, but I wasn’t paying attention to who was around!” the green boy apologized, bowing deeply in front of you in his apology. “There’s a commotion just up ahead, so I recommend you take the next road over.”

You nod numbly, unable to conjure even the slightest hint of your voice again as he stood up to his full length. He was average in height it seemed, taller than you, but still not towering. The hero looked behind his shoulder, those big green eyes focusing onto the distance, onto something you couldn’t even begin to imagine – or see, really. He blinked and turned back to you, smile gone but the gentle aura to him remained, but now his face, his mouth, was underlined with a sense of urgency and engagement to whatever sent a vehicle tumbling your way.

“Which train do you take home?” he asked, eyebrows relaxing from his stern position, as his smile picked up again. “I’ll take you closer to your station!”

“B train,” you manage to wheeze out – unable to be the reason why he was held up but also confused as to just what he could do to get you closer to the station that was at least a mile away from here.

“Perfect! I know where that is!” he laughs for just a moment, and before you could even ask if this was going to be some escorted thing – because you definitely did not need it – his arms were fastly secured around you, and suddenly you were weightless.

A cold wind rushed against your face, nipping at your nose, cheeks, and ears, sending your hair flying around – into your mouth! Oh, you were screaming! You were soaring through the skyline, being held by some hero you couldn’t name, and you were screeching at the top of your lungs.

Making the mistake of looking down, your arms were suddenly around his shoulders, your voice growing even sharper and louder as you squeezed against his body and refused to let go. His hands, despite the gloves, were warm on your back, and his soft chuckle warming you from nose to toes as he secured his grip on you.

“I got you,” he spoke, “I won’t let you go, I promise.”

Those words don’t exactly ease you, but there’s a comfort to the genuinity to his words. You nod nonetheless, your face buried deep into his neck. The cold wind continues to whip around you, the only thing sounding in your ears is the cruel whipping wind and quiet city below.

“I’m landing now,” he informed you, body shifting in the wind, and reflexively, you clung even tighter to him, expecting the similar stomach dropping motion of a roller coaster going straight down. “You’re – ack – c-choking me!”

The knowledge of that, hearing the strain and entirely unhidden sound of him choking against the current chokehold you had on him, you released him entirely with a shriek of your own. Was it a smart move? No, definitely not because you were how many hundreds – if not thousands – of feet in the air with a quirk that could not, and would not save you.

“It’s okay! I’m fine!” he quickly said, his arms shifting around your waist as you felt your body weight drop just the smallest bit. To which your focus landed to the concrete floor so far down, and you began screaming again. He panicked just a bit too. “Y-You’re okay too! We’re landing! We’re landing!”

Soon, but not soon enough, the concrete floor came underneath your feet, and you practically felt your knees buckle underneath you. The train station behind you was practically invisible, and you felt the floor come in contact with your knees, and you collapsed onto your hands and knees. You could feel the tears streaming down your face as you wheezed and panted, unable to move from your position.

“Hey, look, we made it!” he laughed gently, probably being said in hopes that you would feel better. (It did make you feel slightly better, his laugh was light and pretty to listen to.) You could feel him approaching you, iron covered red shoes appearing before your vision. Looking up, you saw that the young hero was crouching, his face holding a wobbly smile that was earnest, worried, and full of unspoken hope. “I do need to get back, but before I do, are you good enough to be left alone?”

You blinked your soaked eyelashes at him, still largely unable to say anything at the cute hero in front of you who had a few scratches on his cheek, right below his freckles.

“Y-Yeah, um,” you say, your tongue cotten and lead in your dry mouth. “I-I’ll be fine, I think.”

The green eyed hero nods, offering you a hand and assisting you to your trembling legs, “That’s good to hear!” he chirped, his wobbly smile becoming a grand, bright grin. “You were really brave! I was impressed!”

Now, you were an idiot at times, but even you could spot a stupid lie. Still, hearing it said with such honesty, as if this hero who was no taller than five foot eight truly believed it, made something bubble in your chest, and soon you found yourself laughing.

“No need to lie to me, h-hero,” you manage to speak between stammering breaths, “thank you for saving me, though. I appreciate it.”

You grin crookedly at him, and to your utter delight, he reciprocates it.

“It’s the least I can do. I’d offer to take you home but… I’m not quite finished yet,” he says, and you can only nod, the conversation obviously reaching its last strides. You watch as he floats up, his eyes looking at you, but somehow focused how many miles away from where he had brought you from. “Stay safe?”

“I’ll try my best,” you agree to his question, hands clasping before your lap. “Finish the job quick, hero?”

He grins, “I’ll try my best.”

You feel a breathless sort of laugh escape you as you watch him beginning to shoot back up, but a sort of horror shoots through you as you rush forward, running right after him, hands cupping around your mouth as you scream:

“What’s your name?!”

The blur of green in the air freezes, and you stop running as you see green eyes and freckles focusing back onto you.

“Deku! My hero name is Deku!”

You stop at the curb of the street, eyes focused on the sky as the green eyed hero named Deku grins one last time before shooting off at a speed probably much faster than when he held onto you. The wind blows around you, and you can only feel the heat sitting on your cheeks and the way you’re smiling as you stare after his figure that's long, long gone.

“Deku...” you whisper to yourself, ignorant to the world of commuters beginning to appear at the station. “Thank you.”

And thus came the very apparent and obvious day in which you fell head over heels for Pro Hero Deku.

Now some people called you a stupid fangirl, obsessive stalker, and sometimes, yeah, you were obsessive and weird about your slight infatuation with a stranger. It was strange, you knew that! But you also knew that you had practically no chances of ever being able to woe the man behind the image of Deku because Midoriya Izuku practically existed as Deku 24/7.

After you graduated from high school, you were put into the same agency that was currently holding Deku. Without tooting your own rom-com obsessed horn too much, you fully expected to walk in and be handed Deku’s file as his PR manager and be able to thank him for not only saving you all that time ago, but also eventually sweep him off his feet.

But your reputation preceded you well, probably too well, because the first day you entered the office and was handed your list of three clients to work with, neither one was for Deku. Being a PR manager for heroes was hard, a job that practically held no set hours because, unlike your typical celebrities, heroes had no type of privacy or protection. They were constantly under the spotlight, being viewed by adoring fans and scornful critics. Your job served as the first line of defense for heroes against the public, and there were some heroes that were quite hilariously easy to work for because they were genuinely good.

The older PR managers typically held the quieter, easy tempered, or less combat heavy heroes. These heroes typically never had a bad thing said about them, their job was a glorified PA job but even less because there was no expected demands from the heroes they had to take in. Unless, of course, a hero wanted to do some sort of public event they hadn’t considered.

But there were the louder, quick to temper, or the heavy combat heroes that while made you an insane amount of money, also brought you a near 120 hour work week because there was so much to do, so much to consider, so much to keep your eyes on. There was the constant slander, the people who hated the louder, quick to temper heroes because they didn’t like their attitude, completely disregarding that they had been unsafe and a liability the entire time the hero was dealing with them. The talk shows that took months to convince to allow for an interview because they heard false rumors, and so you have to practically wrestle a boa constrictor to get a measly five minute interview done. And then the combat-heavy heroes… no one would ever shut up about building damages and how this hero broke his nose while he was stealing a store!

Not to mention having to have every single piece of social media on your phone, set to notify you whenever your clients names were brought up so that you could look at it. You’ve seen more than enough lewd drawings of your clients to last you a lifetime, enough fanfiction, and fan edits that left you with blazing cheeks and the need to never look at your client ever again. But mostly you checked each and every update because you were their first and only line of legal defense on these sorts of things.

You’ve taken down leaked nudes, fake news, and qualmed rumors and speculations.

It was hard.

So when you were shown to your desk on your first day and three files were handed to you, you were shocked to see the hero names you would be working with.

Dynamight

Phantom Thief

Shouto

Somehow, without having yet to speak with a single one of your now current clients, you knew that you were going to have your work cut out for you.

“Good luck newbie!” the woman who gave you the initial tour chirped, clapping you on the back. “You got this!”

Good lord.

Without much to do other than reading through the three’s files, you realized that you already knew a bunch about two of three of your clients. DynaMight and Shouto were two heroes that you knew teamed up with and hung out with Deku a lot, both on-field and off-field if any of the out of costume pictures said anything. Because of their connection with Deku, you had at one point learned a bit about them.

You knew that Shouto was a crowd favorite. He was tall and sweet and a complete airhead at the best moments despite him being smart. Controversy still surrounded his character, despite all the good he did, because of the past history that was brought out about his father Endeavor and his brother Dabi. The country couldn’t figure out where they stood in terms of that reveal. Endeavor did a lot before the reveal, and continued to rise up to everything in his path despite the skeletons in his closet being thrown out for the world to see. They neither forgave him, nor hated him, they only watched and waited. Then Dabi, of course, was seen as a could-have-been version of Shouto, and many tried to ask if he was really a hero and not actually siding with the League. After all, why on Earth would he be defensive of his father too?

The public had an unmoving image of Shouto based on anything but who he was as an individual, and you decided immediately that it would be your job to fix that. He was also, after all, a dear friend of Deku, so you’d do anything.

Phantom Thief was your easiest of the three clients. A relatively well mannered man who was kind and a bit weird in a fun way. He had a great sense of self and was a reliable person on the field. He made a great hero, but you could see the way his spirit blazed with an unspoken rivalry between him and the other two of your clients. Well, it seemed like he was the best until his former self appointed rivals came into the picture, but that was hardly ever, and according to Shouto, he was way worse back in their first year.

The greatest scandal he’s had so far in your three years of working at their agency was the one time he was lied to about a quirk and accidentally copied a woman's quirk that gave her the ability to change her cup size. Safe to say that Phantom Thief accidentally broke a few buttons on his shirt and was unable to stop civilians from snapping pictures.

But of course, the one that had you practically crying yourself to sleep nightly for more than one reason was Dynamight.

You’d known about him the moment you looked up Deku on your phone.

They were practically a hero duo in everything but name. They were always seen doing the same things together, whether that be on patrol together or maybe getting dinner, most of their top recorded fights were done with each other by their sides. You had also learned that they were childhood friends, and you practically vibrated at the thought that even though Deku was not your client, the chances of meeting him were still astronomically high.

There was no way you wouldn’t not meet Deku!

But you were wrong, so very, very wrong.

Turns out the hero duo in everything but name meant that Dynamight refused to let Deku be anywhere near him in the agency – the very small amount of time they spent in here. The few times they were in the same room, Dynamight absolutely refused to be interrupted because that was their paperwork hour. You had only ever been blessed with seeing green curls turning the corner as Dynamight gripped your forearm, refusing to let you follow.

“Like hell I’ll let you distract the shitnerd,” he stated simply, his red eyes narrowed as he stared down his nose at you. You opened your mouth, ready to defend your not so innocent intentions. “I’m not stupid, so don’t pretend like you won’t try anything.”

Your jaw snapped shut.

Safe to say that you couldn’t do anything about Deku so long as Dynamight was around.

But Dynamight as a client was exhausting to put it kindly.

There were so many opinions and thoughts and issues and praises coming from everywhere. Hell, even the fucking Americans and westerners had caught wind of the Wonder Duo at one point and while you were well knowledgable on their opinions on Deku, the ones on Dynamight were the ones that you had to focus on now.

People still called him a villain, so many unhappy with the fact that he still screamed and cursed and threatened. There were many conspiracy theories that he was working with the long dead League of Villains. They turned their nose up at the fact that he was childhood friends with Deku, claiming that no way an asshole like him could have ever been friends with him. And of course the bullying revelation that had come out shortly after your debut.

That had been a trip, one that had you even shocked as Dynamight approached the table in front of the media, his body calm and composed. You had watched as he simply said he owed nothing to the media, that he had already done all that he could to deserve his atonement and deserve Deku’s forgiveness. He had spoken clearly, concisely that it wasn’t any of their damn business as to what he did, and if he apologized to them, the unaffected, the ones that had nothing to do with his early years of bullying Deku, of his previous weakness and insecurity, it would be a waste of his breath.

It isn’t to them he should ever be apologizing to anyways.

You had watched as he stood up, face calm, and hands shoved into his pockets as he stood and walked away despite the screaming reporters. You had wanted to stay longer, have your own hand in damage control, but a swoop of green came in and Deku was at the microphone eyebrows furrowed as he pointed a finger at them all and said that his past with Kacchan was between him and Kacchan only, and his decision to forgive Kacchan were his and only his.

You didn’t hear the rest, didn’t even get the option to hear the way the hero you loved defended the hero you worked for – his childhood friend.

No.

Dynamight had grabbed your elbow and dragged you out of the room with him, the metal doors clanging closed the moment fierce green eyes met yours.

You watched in the company car as Dynamight looked outside the window, one elbow on the doorframe holding his chin; his gaze focused sharply on nothing but the passing sidewalk. Had it not been for the way the hand on top of his lap trembled, you would have thought he was perfectly okay.

Neither one of you talked about that again.

But just because you didn’t talk about it again, didn’t mean the world was the same. People claimed he brainwashed Deku, others demanded that Deku beat the shit out of Dynamight. You knew that Dynamight would want nothing to do with this, but you would stay in the office (an almost useless, empty office as most PR managers did their business at home) for hours long after you were supposed to be gone, practically arguing with someone who only existed behind a screen and didn’t even care that much – but you couldn’t stop.

Seeing Dynamight’s shaking hand had really done a number on you.

“The hell are you still doing here, eyelashes,” Dynamite asked from the dark entrance of the floor. “Go home already, don’t waste your time.”

You had startled at the initial intrusion, but you immediately relaxed seeing the smudged paint around red eyes and blond hair. You barely kept your gaze on him before turning back to your computer and continuing your argument.

“I’m not wasting my time, I’m doing my job,” you remark, eyes squinting at your keyboard because your vision is definitely blurry. “I’ll be heading out soon anyways.”

“God you’re fucking annoying and stubborn!” Dynamight barked, the heel of his hand slamming into his forehead. “This is exactly why I won’t introduce you to the fucking nerd!”

“What?!” you shriek, suddenly looking at your client as if he had personally attacked you – and in a way he did. “What do you mean you won’t introduce me to Deku because of that?! I’ve already met Red Riot, Chargebolt, Cellophane, and Pinky through you!”

“Yeah, because they’re not stubborn idiots too!” Dynamight accuses, jamming a gloved finger at you as he begins stomping your way. You startle, your chair shooting backward as the explosion hero makes his way towards you at alarming speed.

“What are you—?!” you shriek, hands flailing about as he grabs you by the collar of your distressed shirt.

Dynamight lifts you up to your feet as if you were a sack of flour and you grasp onto his forearm.

“I might tell you that you’re the most annoying and stubborn bitch in the world, but you’re not worse than fucking Deku,” Dynamight sneers, his red eyes narrowed and stern. “I’m not going to let you meet him until you learn how to give or you’ll hurt him, and I’m not going to be part of any reason as to why he gets hurt again.”

Your jaw dropped, clearly offended, but you closed it just as fast; the weight of his words made you a bit sad, even for just a bit.

“You’re kinda cute when you care for Deku, you sure I’m his biggest fan?” you tease, grinning at the hero to which he rolls his eyes.

“Shut the hell up and go home already; it’s annoying seeing you fight a losing battle that’s none of your damn business,” Dynamight simply said, putting you back onto your feet and blocking out your desk.

“I’ll go home on the condition that for my birthday you at least consider introducing us!” you say, unwilling to move from your spot. “I’ve been working for you for three years! You’ve kept me away for three years!”

Dynamight’s stare didn’t even shift the slightest millimeter, his red eyes unamused as you groaned in grief and annoyance.

“I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself?!” you grumble snatching your jacket and purse from the hook on your cubicle and shoving them on. “My names God of Explosion Murder: Dynamight and I am Stubborn™ but will never admit it.”

You continued mocking your long time client and most definitely friend if you dared to say so, and dragged the heel of your foot all the way to the elevator to which you were joined by Dynamight. The trip down the elevator is silent, and you keep your gaze locked on the closed doors, unwilling to even look at the hero next to you.

Soon enough, the elevator reached the ground floor, and you got ready to walk out.

“I’ll consider it,” Dynamight said as the elevator doors opened. “Also, fucking stop calling me Dynamight, Bakugou’s fine.”

He walked off the elevator with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants.

“Thank you, Bakugou!” you shriek, your lungs failing you at the thought of finally being introduced to Deku! You hadn’t moved from your spot from the elevator, your chest hammering with the thought of getting to meet Deku.

“Don’t get your hopes up, you’re still irritatingly stubborn,” Bakugou merely calls over his shoulder before lifting his hand in a halfhearted wave before stepping out of the glass door.

That brought you back to reality just a bit and you scowled, knowing you would have to go beyond and above to prove that.

But you see, there were many reasons to cry about having Bakugou as your client. Besides the stinkhole of his previous bullying, people just were not understanding his typically prickly exterior. You had to go head to head with reputation tarnished, had to slap fangirls away who demanded that Bakugou degrade them where they stood. It was hard to not be stubborn as not only his PR manager but his friend, and in less than a month, still plenty of time before your birthday, you had already grown irritated of the meeting-Deku-card he waved over your head.

“Mei, if I have to go any longer than this, I will die and hope I am reborn as Deku’s new guardian angel,” you pouted, chin pressed against a cold metal tabletop. Your hands being used as glove models for one of your best friends Hatsume Mei. “It’s first of all impossible getting anywhere near him with his guard dog Bakugou literally stopping me whenever I’m within a ten foot radius! And then I’m not even sure what will happen when we do meet again! Would I even be able to talk to him?!”

“Why wouldn’t you? You talk to all my babies with me! There’s practically nothing you can’t do,” Mei laughs, smacking you against your back before returning her intense gaze back to the gloves. “Deku’s uh… I actually can’t remember him but I’m sure he’s a great conversationalist! I think he helped me with the Sports Festival my first year.”

“That was Iida,” you laugh, wiggling your fingers as Mei demanded. “You’re so bad with names and faces, I’m impressed you know mine.”

“You saved my baby, of course I remember you,” Mei turned her grin towards you, “but come on, why can’t you get with him besides this Bakugou guy?”

“Well, he’s just like Bakugou! He’s practically married to his job! Their schedules basically match together perfectly! There’s literally only three hours a day while they’re on the job that they’re not together! And that’s when they patrol their own parts of town because there’s hardly any activity they don’t need to be attached by the neck.” You explain and rant, your cheeks puffing as you stand up and allow Mei to run further tests on the glove.

“Sounds like you gotta become a villain to woo this hero guy, huh,” Mei spoke, eyes focused on the glove as you pointed a finger at the far wall and watched as a beam exploded from the fingertip and pierced through the steel wall like butter. “Too bad you’re a goody two-shoes or else I could make you some serious villain gear and make you a fearsome villain to then prove that Hatusme Mei’s babies and creations are untouchable and the best in the world! Muah-ha-ha-ha!”

You know her words are more joking than serious, but that doesn’t stop your eyes from widening. Your body shifts over to where she was standing and you screech pointing at her and just narrowly missing setting off the laser again.

“THAT'S IT!”

“What’s it?” she asked, completely confused.

“You have to make me a villain!” you exclaim, rushing over to Mei, who is eagerly waiting for her babies returnal especially since it ran perfectly. “You have to make me near-invisible gear that can keep me going toe to toe with Deku until I can seduce him!”

“You want to turn evil?” Mei questions, finger pressing quizzically to her chin. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“I am definitely not villainous to pull that off, but like I pretend to be a villain so that he talks to me and we can like get to know each other!” you exclaim, you’re unable to keep from hopping up and down on your feet, your grin unfathomably bright. “It's practically a romcom in the making!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Mei laughs, altering the band of fabric around your waist. “You do know heroes and villains hardly speak? It’s more like… ‘I’m more powerful,’ ‘No me!,’ ‘No, ME!’”

“Um, I’m pretty sure that’s not true, but whatever! I’ll figure out a way!” you continue on unaffected because this plan was genius! Especially if you had Mei in your corner?! Her recent development of not using such… steampunk designs made her creations elusive and dangerous to own. Hence why she was an extremely sought out manufacturer, by villains and heroes alike. “And if I can go toe to toe with Deku of all people, you’ll know that you and your babies are the undeniable best!”

“Hm, that is promising,” Mei agrees with a nod as she forces you around. “Is this Deku guy all that good?”

“He’s the one you made the iron soles for!” you chirp and watch as the recognition and challenge spark immediately in Mei’s yellow eyes.

“Oh,” Mei chuckles, turning away from you and looking at her pile of made babies. “This would be good.”

“So we have an agreement?” you grin excitedly.

“Give me a month, and we’ll have your debut!”

Fuck Bakugou for thinking you weren’t good enough!

You hadn’t expected the initial phases of villainy to be quite as hard as it was, if you were being honest. The late nights at Mei’s personal lab made sure to keep your plans a solid secret, but you had to prepare for the wild range of what Deku’s quirk entailed.

There was smoke, something you were already used to working in because of Bakugou and his quirk. You’ve navigated quite a bit in his smog, and as long as you knew where you were, you would be fine.

There was also that danger sense, which allowed him to know when things were coming – something that shouldn’t be too big an issue considering you weren’t actually attempting to extract danger onto him.

Blackwhip was a big issue. How far or how much could you do if he even grabbed a hold of you. With sleuthing and the help of Mei having files on everyone's quirks, you were able to find information that blackwhip was a creation made of energy. Meaning that Mei was now making some type of destructing material to lessen the energy of the quirk, allowing for you to escape should he attempt to capture you this way.

Float was stopped by having most of your fights occur within a confined area, which was needed for you anyways! You didn’t need to be caught by anyone else but him! You didn’t actually need to land in jail – you would prefer to not be handled by anyone but Deku, actually.

Then of course the stupid superstrength and superspeed, both of which you knew you could handle with your quirk. You’ve been head to head with people with quirks similar to that before, and you knew your quirk was tricky enough that you’d manage to slip right past his fingers just fine. After all, you knew full and well that the Deku who took down S class villains was worlds quicker than F class villains – aka you.

You would be fine.

But today was day one, first of how many days it would take to get Pro Hero Deku, aka Midoriya Izuku to fall in love with you.

You were dressed in a black and purple bodysuit that was definitely not inspired by Shego from Kim Possible’s costume. Your hair was dyed purple by a special spray Mei created that would be washed out by the end of the day, but wouldn’t ever give away that it was fake. You wore a mask over your eyes, and grinned seeing that you couldn’t see a fleck of color on your irises.

Perfect.

And with far too much confidence, nauseating excitement, and unjustified attitude, you marched down towards your first spot, ready and adopting the identity of who you were about to become.

Mirage.

It was time to act. Deku and Dynamight were on different patrol routes right now, and you sent your threat, readying for the moment for the man in green to come in with the desire to stop you. With the very real threat of stealing every puppy within the tristate area being broadcasted within the area unless and hero bests you, you waited for your savior to come and stop you.

“I am here to stop your villainous acts, you villain!” a voice shattered the silence just as it shattered your heart. You looked over your shoulder to see some hero you couldn’t name standing at the other stairwell entrance with his fists clenched and ready to fight.

You groaned, shoulders crumbling with your well hidden disappointment.

“I wasn’t looking for you!” you exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the flabbergasted hero who was just trying to figure out what was happening. “Where’s Deku?!”

“He’s – he’s not here yet,” he stammers, eyes wide. “It’s not his day anymore to patrol this area?”

“Aw fuck!” you complain, pouting at the realization that you had messed up. “Okay, I’ll be back later, please don’t come back. Bye!”

With a small wave, you easily stepped through the door to the stairwell next to you and left, your threat empty and the hero victorious despite not actually stopping you. And unfortunately, although you had wished and prayed even, this was not the last time a screw up like this would happen.

At the threat of destroying all the cats in the area, you had another hero show up, not Deku, and you groaned and left before they could even finish their call of stopping you.

You then threatened to poison the watering system, to which you found out that Deku was held up at another major villain threat in a different city. You groaned and stomped off after that.

Then there was the time you swore you would increase the overall temperature of the city per one degree celsius should your demands not be made. Shouto answered that one and you immediately walked away the moment you saw the familiar head of red and white coming your way.

Time and time again you kept being caught by heroes you could not care about, being confronted by no names and nobodies. It was tiring, and Mei was beginning to sigh just the smallest bit whenever you showed up to try yet again.

But you weren’t a quitter!

You would win!

This was your last attempt at getting Deku to notice you.

After threatening to wrap all the citizens in the area with a giant froot by the foot, you were almost sad to say that the heroes ignored your cry for chaos and no one had come to check on you.

You sat outside the building you used as your trap for Deku, pouting into a hot dog that the neighborhood's grandma gave you because you looked like you needed something to eat. It’s a good thing you weren’t actually a villain or else they’d be fucked, you bitterly thought as you took another bite of your food.

It had been a month of empty, no Deku appearances, and you were going to bite the bullet and pretend to be not stubborn just so stupid Bakugou of all people could introduce you.

You kicked your feet as you sat on the staircase, humming as you watched the empty streets bend with the wind. It was quiet, beautiful, peaceful.

“YOU!” a voice shrieked to your left, and you watched a pudgy, red nosed man racing over towards you, a flash drive clenched in his hands. “TAKE THIS! RUN! DON’T LET THE HEROES TAKE IT!”

You gawked at him, feeling the small plastic device being shoved into your hands as the man collapsed at your feet. You squeaked when you heard a voice yelling stop and you bounced to your feet, turned into the building and raced in.

Your breathing was erratic, heart in your throat as you raced up the stairwell, unable to begin to imagine what the hell the information on the flash drive held. You were practically hyperventilating as you reached the floor you had come to know extremely well, and you stood near the window with shaky hands and legs.

What did you take?!

“I’m going to need that back, I’m afraid,” a low smooth voice said from behind you, and you froze immediately. Old anxiety overcome by a new anxiety, one that made your stomach flip and blood burn.

Turning around, you felt awestruck to see the one man you’ve been waiting for… for fucking years now, really, to appear before you, finally be there. In the flesh, completely, entirely. Your jaw dropped, your gaze looking down from your clenched hand that held the USB to the way that Deku looked at you with warm eyes that were underlined with steel that made you want to drop to your knees, confess everything, and beg to be his. God, he was so fucking tall. He had only been about five foot eight the last time you had actually talked, and now he was at least a foot taller. His teenager haircut was long gone, now replaced with his curls trimmed at the nape of his neck before filling out on top – not quite an undercut. He had more freckles now, surely. His skin just a bit tanner, a scar trailing from his cheek to his jaw. You knew there were more scars, just as you knew that there were dimples when he smiled.

You wanted to have him between your legs while you begged for mercy, holy shit.

Tucking the USB into your pocket, you tilted your head as you will yourself to relax.

“I went through all the trouble of getting it... I think if I’m going to hand it over quickly, I deserve to know what’s on it, no?” you tease, your confidence coming out of nowhere while a smile spreads ever so largely over your features. Deku’s eyes widened just a bit, shock overcoming his green eyes.

“I’m sorry, but that’s confidential,” Deku stresses, taking a step forward toward you. You click your tongue, taking a step backward while grinning.

“I don’t think that’s what I asked for,” you giggle as you watch Deku’s face go through an array of emotions before settling onto one – curiosity.

“What do you want?” he asked, apparently entirely ready to discuss any and all terms and conditions with you.

“Honestly?” you reply, tapping a gloved finger to your chin as you ‘think.’ Deku, however, nods. His stance relaxing, becoming one of preparedness but not the takedown he had previously entered with.

“A date with you.”

You watch as Deku’s eyes slam wide open, his jaw dropping immediately and he stammered. Oh, how your heart soared and how you felt giddy and wonderful as he seemed to slip and slide on his own tongue!

“A-A date?!” he ends up almost shrieking, his head shaking left and right. “T-That’s a total lie! You can’t possibly – well, no! Please tell me the truth!”

But you were giddy, practically drunk off the fact that you were making the most powerful hero in the world blush like a little schoolboy. You suddenly were on the offensive, stepping towards your hero who was much larger than you with power and drive behind each step. And it must have been the way you stared him down, the way you walked towards him at blank range with such brimming confidence that Deku takes a step back. But it’s something that makes you want to laugh as the heel of his foot gets caught on a raised tile, and you watch the mountain of a man tumble to the floor.

You’re on top of him immediately, hands pressed to his shoulders, knee settling near his crotch with most of your weight so he got the idea to not do anything funny. The USB sits between your fingers, and you lean over his flushed face that looks up at you with wide eyes.

“Actually, I changed my mind, I know what I want,” you say instead, nose ghosting over his. “Everytime I decide to do something… naughty… I want you to be the hero on the case to stop me. You and just you.”

You lean in closer, so close that you could see the specks of gold in his green, green eyes.

Deku hasn’t spoken, and you’re pretty sure his chest isn’t moving as you press your breasts against his.

“Understood, De-ku?”

Your teeth tug at his bottom lip and let go as he nods.

“Good, good,” you grin, sitting up on his chest and taking the USB in your fingers and slipping it into his utility belt. “Take good care of that for me, I’ll see you next time, hero…”

You had only managed to flash a quick wave before disappearing through your usual door, hoping and praying to god that whatever the hell possessed you would continue until you reached Mei’s. It wouldn’t hit you until much, much later than you had stunned Pro Hero Deku speechless within the first meeting.

Hell, you thought giddily as you answered Bakugou’s call about how he probably just got into a bit of a messy situation, maybe you do have the potential to woo him like this.

Thus truly began your descent as the villain Mirage.

It was quickly accepted and discovered that the moment you stepped into that costume and colored hair that you were the prey for Deku and Deku only. Most of your interactions with Deku occurred within buildings, and you used Mei’s gear to gain the final laugh each and every time to allow for you to escape. There were times, however, where you could be seen racing through the sky. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop as Deku followed after you, leaping, tumbling, and even catching you at times.

You flirted with him heavily, allowing yourself to be caught so that you could bat your pretty lashes and press your chest against his. It didn’t matter how professional he was, how good at his job he was, Deku was a pervert – so obviously a pervert it made slipping away almost too easy.

But because you had the world-renowned, world known Pro Hero Deku as the only hero on your case, soon the small block who had to play victims to your horrendous crimes became only a small percentage of people who were watching your crimes. These near daily crimes (or inconveniences/botherings as the people on the internet say to defend you and your actions) are becoming both a worldwide sensation, and so, it took nothing for you to continue having Deku at your feet and the world chipped in. So you agreed to do interviews, forcing uneager reporters to do segments on you so that the hype behind you and Deku’s relationship grew.

You didn’t want him to leave you, not until you got what you wanted, and unless you were an idiot, you were nearly positive you were almost there.

Why would you say that?

Well, a few reasons.

The first came about a week after you had first met Deku again.

You had joyously gathered the means to create a machine to shave down an eighth of an inch of everyone's shoes in the entire country of Japan without their knowledge. You had ever so evilly explained that the point of this was to ensure that for a full day, everyone would feel off and unbalanced but would not know why.

You had said this, grinning widely as you turned around to see Deku standing there attempting to fight off a very amused smile.

“I don’t think that would be all too evil, Mirage,” he called out to you, arms folding across his chest as he watched you set up the machine to do exactly what you said you would do.

“Mm, that’s what you say now, but just wait until you’re one of the losers stumbling around,” you say back, grinning as you turn around for just a second, wagging the knife at Deku from the distance.

“Well, regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku laughs just slightly, and you grin, standing up.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, so I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there.”

You giggle.

“Make me.”

You’re not sure what happens, but there’s dodging and weaving, spinning and sliding. You’re practically wheezing from how hard you’re laughing as Deku can not manage to land a finger on you with the help of Mei’s items and your quirk. It all comes to an end when instead of dodging, you throw yourself right at him, and Deku has not anticipated that.

His eyes are wide open and you fiercely grin as he falls back onto the floor, unbalanced and only slightly frantic. You have the knife pointed at his neck, the dull blade sitting gently on his skin.

“So, Deku,” you taunt teasingly, your teeth burying into your bottom lip for just a moment at the sight of the dark flash in his green, beautiful eyes. “Tell me one thing, or I’ll continue on with my vile plans.”

“O-Okay?”

“Are you single?”

The second attempt came a few many weeks later.

You had gathered about 75 tons of glitter bombs and were in the current process of making them one. You had plans of setting it off over Tokyo so that for practically the rest of eternity, the entire city would have glitter everywhere. The only thing is that you did have to glue the glitter bombs together because, well, no one made super giant ones.

“This is so annoying, there’s glitter everywhere, and I’m only ten glitter bombs in!” you complain to the ‘empty’ room but knowing full and well that Deku had appeared through the broken window at least five minutes ago.

“If it’s annoying to you, then shouldn’t you stop?” Deku replied and you grinned.

He really couldn’t stay quiet, huh?

“Well, if it’s annoying to me, then that means every one of my victims will also find it annoying. Win-win situation.” you say, turning around towards him and winking. Facing back towards the glitter bombs you scowl, “stupid fucking glue gets everywhere, too!”

“Regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku said as leveled as he could although you swore you heard a laugh in his voice.

“Just try and stop me,” you reply back stone cold.

You stand up and watch as Deku stands up from the windowsill and sighs just a bit too heavily.

“Guess I have to,” he says and shoots out before you’re well prepared.

Typically, and probably in any other situation, this would have been the end. Pro Hero Deku had come at you with the speed and power as he took out any other Class F criminals, but unfortunately for him, and definitely fortunately for you that glue was EVERYWHERE.

Deku’s hand was stuck onto your arm, and your chest was glued to his stomach, and you swear you never quite got the strawberry Deku references until right now.

The perverted hero burned scarlet, his face practically simmering with heat as your body became undeniably stuck to his. You had to fight off the vindictive smirk, the practically snarling grin as you could feel something hot and heavy twitch at your hip.

“Fuck,” Deku wheezed.

“Fuck, yeah,” you grinned.

“WHAT?!”

Deku could not look you in the eyes for about 10 more interactions following that, but you counted that as a win. But undoubtedly, your starred and favorite memory of it all was something that occurred just last week of the current present events.

You had stood on top of a building, threatening the entire government of stealing (i.e., cutting off) the aglet of their shoes and sweaters and then removing all the laces so that it would result in their wasted time and entire humiliation!

“I don’t think most people even know what aglets are, to be honest,” Deku said from behind you. You turned around to see that he was standing there with an unsuppressed grin. “It’s not a good enough threat.”

You go unfazed by his judgement, choosing to instead bat your eyelashes and push your hair behind your ear.

“Not a good enough threat, and yet, you’re still here?” you tease, enjoying the way pink flushes to his cheeks.

“Where else would I be?” he says, and you have to ignore the way your stomach fills with butterflies.

“You’re not cute when you flirt back,” you deadpan, biting your tongue harshly when he says ‘hey!’ “Enough chit chat, let me kick your ass now and then do what I need to do.”

Unlike probably what is 95% of the time, you made the first move today.

You were on the offensive, jabbing and weaving, sweeping and punching. Deku’s green eyes were nearly black as he watched you, analyzing and taking in your movements, countering them all without so much of an issue.

“I still don’t get your quirk,” Deku grunted as his hand swiped at the empty air. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“So then you can turn me in to the government who are still salty about their aglets? I don’t think so!” you say with a laugh, rolling out of the way as Deku lunges forward. “Try again, baby, I have full faith that you’ll get it.”

Deku puffed out a chuckle and lunged again, his huge gloved hand swiping at you, with nearly accuracy despite your quirk being on. But… he wasn’t exactly perfect.

RIIIIIIIIIP!

Cold air hit your breast and your jaw dropped as your very exposed breast appeared before you and Deku. Pro Hero Deku had torn the breast of your costume, the costume that you purposefully did not wear a bra for because you had wanted this exact scenario to play out.

“DEKU!” you screech, pretending to be modest and covering your tit as Deku finally yanked himself out of staring at your breast and whipped around.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! I didn’t think that was going to happen! I didn’t even mean to look at your boob! It just sort of all happened too fast and it was very shocking! N-Not that you have an ugly boob or anything because actually I think you have a very great boob! But oh my god, I need to shut up please ignore me!” Deku spoke so fast in a matter of five seconds, and you couldn’t even tell him to come back as he sprinted away.

His ears burned red and you swore even as he was gone, you could still see the red of his ears illuminating the sky.

You laugh.

“What a perv.”

And so, we are back to the beginning.

Back to how you forced a local news channel to read your demands so that you could hopefully take your final bow as Mirage forever.

With the threat of having a machine that would make dogs bark at a frequency for hours on end until humans eardrums broke then bleed. You made your way to your typical building and hummed as you waited.

The world outside was the same as always.

There were a few people out, a few cars driving through the street, and a few birds chirping here and there.

It was peaceful.

“Don’t you think the new reporter thing was a bit dramatic?” Deku chuckled from behind you.

You were used to him approaching like that, used to him trying to portray being elusive and cool. In your opinion, it just made him dorky.

“No such thing as being dramatic when I’m trying to go head to head with the greatest hero ever,” you respond back effortlessly. You spin on your heel and look back at Deku, who is leaning against a doorframe that he most definitely is slouching on so that the top of his head doesn’t hit the frame. “Hi, Deku.”

“Hi, y/l/n,” he says with a soft smile, one that's slightly victorious, one that makes your stomach knot in a pleasant way.

“Ah, you discovered my secret identity,” you observe, grinning as you begin approaching Deku. “Should I be scared?”

“Probably not, I don’t think I could do anything to you,” Deku sighs, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you too. “You’re pretty amazing, y/l/n.”

“Let’s prove that then,” you grin while zipping forward.

As if the both of you knew that this was the end of the line, the final confrontation, the battle this time was different. It was showy, flirty, full of spins and side steps, playing a game of cat and mouse while dodging and weaving. You laughed as blackwhip dissolved around your costume, and you frowned as he began using more of his power to get from point A to point B much quicker.

You’re not quite sure how it happened, what exactly you did wrong, or maybe Deku just finally figured out the pattern you used for your quirk because suddenly you were being tackled from behind. You shrieked as the two of you went down, his body flushed on top of you, his chest pressing to your shoulders.

The both of you were heaving, panting, completely out of breath from the five minutes you took playing around. He holds your wrists in one hand, pinned above your head, and the other one is on your waist. You were trapped beneath him, unable to move the absolute unit of a man above you, arms and hips weak to his weight. You shoved your hips up, attempting to shift some of his weight off you, but you froze as he choked on a breath by your ear.

Your ass was pressed against something hard, thick, and hot.

Oh.

Ohhh fuck.

It was happening.

Holy fucking shit.

Your breathing hitches as you thrusted your ass up again, confirming you were grinding on what was definitely Deku’s hardening cock. And once again, Deku makes the prettiest, most embarrassed gravelly grunt at the back of his throat and you feel like every strand of resistance and strength snaps.

The hand on your waist pulls you even closer against his crotch, and there's lips pressing against your neck, and you absolutely lose it.

He kisses your neck sloppily, teeth nipping at your exposed flesh, and you grind against him, moaning and thrusting back as your body feels like it's on fire. He wanted you! He wanted you and your plan to woo him worked!

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you keen breathlessly. “Wanted you so badly, Deku.”

“Fuck,” Deku curses, his hips thrusting back against your clothed ass with power you couldn’t fucking wait to feel. “I wanted you too. Wanted you so badly, but didn’t think – holy shit.”

His hand that pins your wrists lets go of you, and moves to grab your jaw. You nearly fucking melt as his full lips slam against yours, and you moan as his lips move against yours. There’s something indescribable about how he’s kissing you, the want, the need, the months of suppressed tension bursting through every move and curve of his mouth. It doesn’t matter to you that you’re pressed up against the concrete floor, you feel like you’ve been placed into another world, an area where you can never come back.

Your arm reaches behind you and buries into his soft curls, you tug at them as your ass circles against his thrusting hips. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you whine at the hot, wet muscle in your mouth, and it sends your head spinning. You can’t take it anymore, you need him, want him flushed against your front.

“Can I fuck you?” Deku asks swollen lips pulling away from yours, his mouth frantic and trailing kisses up your cheeks and down your jaw. “Please, I wanna fuck you so bad. Wanna fuck you on the floor and against the wall. Can I make you mine?”

You nod your head frantically, unable to come up with the words to say in order to tell him yes.

Deku laughs breathlessly and flips you over so that it’s your back against the floor now.

And just like you want him to, Deku comes down to reclaim your mouth. Hot, open mouthed kisses, teeth tugging at your lips and hands grabbing your waist. His hands are huge against you filling up the space between your hip and your waist without an issue. Your legs wrap around his waist, feeling entirely small underneath him, but entirely ready to be fucked by him.

His lips move expertly against yours, teeth nibbling at your lips, mouth then sucking on your tongue. You can’t keep the continuous moans from leaking out, can’t keep yourself from staying quiet as your eyes flutter open and see green eyes so dark they look black, staring down at you with the intensity of a predator.

You were his prey, and you would present to him at the drop of a hat.

His body is hot, heat rolling off of his hero costume in waves, making you feel like you were near burning against him. And the heat between his thighs sits at the bottom of your ass, thrusting up and grinding against you so that you don’t forget even for a moment that you are making him this way.

“I always knew you’d have such a pretty moan,” Deku mumbles as his fingers find the zipper to your costume and begin to tug it down. His lips trail down your neck, biting and nipping at the newly exposed flesh. “Knew you’d look so pretty under me, waiting to be fucked into submission.”

The words spark something within you, your eyes fluttering as your hips grind just a tad bit faster and you whine.

“Aw, is that what you wanted this entire time, y/l/n?” Deku asks, his grin pressed against your collarbone. “Wanted to be stretched out and fucked until you can’t anymore?”

“I want it,” you gasp, your fingers burying deep into his curls. “I want you, I want it, I want your dick in me already!”

“Not into foreplay?” Deku chuckles just a bit, tongue then tracing up your neck.

“Oh I am,” you snap, fingers finding the zipper of his own costume. “You can find out later how much I’m into it, but right now, I have been wanting you for years, and you will not make me wait any longer!”

Deku only nods frantically, and it's a mess of limbs, sloppy kisses, and clothes as the both of you strip to nothing.

Deku’s in between your legs, one hand pressed to the back of your knee, the other gripping what you believe is his dick because it makes everything in the world freeze as you see it. It’s huge, so thick that his hand wraps around it in a nice grip, and it long, curling up to his abs, curved and veiny.

“Holy shit,” you squeak, your cunt already clenching at the thought of taking that in.

“Are you ready?” Deku asks, the hand on your leg moving away for a moment as he cards his fingers back through his hair. “I don’t have a condom, though.”

“That’s fine, I don't care,” you dismiss his words, eyes too focused on the flush cock in his hand. “I don’t think I’ll live after you kill me with that anyways.”

Deku laughs just a bit, his dimples flashing as he leans in and kisses you deeply. You tremble underneath him, feeling so small pressed up against him, and you mewl when you feel the head of his cock pressing between your folds.

“Put it in,” you gasp, leg lifting and wrapping around his waist, “put it in! I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk, do you understand?!”

Deku nods, and with a sense of frantic need, his hand guides his cock into you.

It feels like you’re splitting in half. The girth of his cock stretching your walls out to the max, and he’s only going in. You scream loudly, both in pain and pleasure because it hurts so good.

“Take it, baby, take me all in,” Deku pants, his hips pushing out small, tiny thrusts to ram his cock further and further into your twitching cunt. “That’s i-it, holy fuck, that’s it! You’re taking me all the way in. F-Fuck… you’re so amazing! So fucking perfect!”

Tears are pouring out of your eyes, and your nails are tearing into his back, you sob slightly overwhelmed with his cock and the absolute pleasure of finally getting what you want and it being so much better than you thought. Your cunt throbs almost violently as Deku’s cock finally hits your cervix and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts in further, lips attempting to claim yours.

“Fuck me, Deku,” you beg, hips beginning to slam and fuck up onto his cock. “Please! I need you!”

“Such a desperate little villain though,” Deku sighs, teasingly, giving you one strong thrust for good measure. It goes a long way though, the power behind his thrust and thighs promising you a bruised ass, thighs, and cunt makes your mouth water for more. “I need you to promise to never do anything like that again and be a good little manager for Kacchan.”

“W-Wha–”

“Be good and stop being Mirage, or else you won’t be fucked.”

There was no hesitation.

“Okay.”

And just like that, Deku’s soft smile curves into a knowing, fierce smirk, and you can do nothing as his hands press to the back of your knees and he begins thrusting his hips into you. And it takes you completely out of control.

It’s a messy, frantic dance, your body holding onto his, your lips pressing against his, desperate and needy for his, and he is basically trying to imprint his body onto yours, the concrete, and the walls. Your bodies are so foreign to each other, and yet, when he fucks into you just a bit hard, just a bit faster, you come undone, back arching and toes curling as you sob his name.

It’s overwhelming to know that he can read you this well and for you to have never fucked him before. It’s empowering to see that he likes every forced and involuntary squeeze and clench of your cunt. He loved when your nails dug into his skin, raking their existence against the plane of broad muscles and scars.

Deku curses your name as you clench around him, his hands moving to your jaw so that he can lift your face to kiss him just so. He kisses you with a heated passion, a need that strips your entire being bare, and his hips slam so loudly against you, the slicked wetness is squelching and slapping with every grunt and moan.

In and out his cock goes, and you praise him and his cock.

You praise him for making you feel so good, for stretching out your pussy with that fat cock of his. You beg for more, and more, and more. You want every snap of his hips to send new colors to your vision, and every echoing squelch of your meeting, sloppy sexes only adds to the blabbering, unmanaged sentences from your lips.

“Harder, faster, more!” you beg, practically wailing against his shoulders, needing him more and more. The concrete hurts against your back, but you don’t care. You don’t care if he breaks your back, it’s a fall you’ll take. “Don’t hold back! Don’t you dare hold back!”

“Fuck, you’re crazy,” Deku gasps, his sweaty brow burying into your cheek. “I won’t though, I won't. Be ready, I’m not sure if you can take it.”

Before you can snap back that you can in fact take it, Deku’s weight falls heavier onto you and the angle shifts just slightly, and your words are ripped right out of your throat for a pitched, window shattering screech. Deku fucks into you with a new power, some untapped strength as greenspark falls from his skin as he ruins you for anyone ever again.

Your voice begins to scream out, the feeling of his vicious, thick cock snapping into you, shoving your shoulders further and further into the concrete was sending your head spinning. Your body is convulsing as he fucks you with new vulgar need and strength. But before you could scream your praises, Deku’s fingers shove into your mouth, and his other hand wraps around your neck, silencing your words and noises as he fucks up into you again and again and again.

“So loud, angel,” Deku smirks, fingers stroking and pinching your tongue as saliva pours endlessly from your mouth. His voice isn’t strained however, doesn’t have any indication that he’s out of breath or ready to tap out and that nearly makes you go insane. “I can’t wait to see everything that makes you look like this… you’re so pretty when you’re getting fucked.”

Your head is spinning, the heated tightness in your core clenching and throbbing as his conquesting cock never once stops or lessens. It just grows and grows and grows. His cock twitches in you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he lets out a deep moan.

“Such a good and wet cunt you are,” Deku gasps as you gag against his fingers that press roughly against the back of your tongue. Your vision feels hazy, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine as his hand on your throat opens and closes, demonstrating his power over you. “I’m so glad you went through all this hard work to get me to fuck you.”

You can’t speak, so you nod desperately, you were so happy you did this too.

Your hips buck up into him with sheer stubborn drive to get him to toss his head back and moan, you wanted to see him unhinged too. Your eyelashes flutter, as his hands remove themselves from your face, and they move to your hips to help you out. But the building tightness and demanding need in your cunt was growing louder, hotter, completely undeniable. Your teeth sinking against his skin as you whimpered loudly, absolutely pathetically as you shifted faster, fucking against him harder.

“I-I’m so close,” you manage to moan out, and a sharp escape of air comes from his nose at that revelation.

Deku nods, his head moving so that his forehead rests against yours as he looks deep into your eyes. “I need you to look at the way your belly bulges while I fuck you before you cum, I want you to watch it bulge as you cum.”

You whimper, the strain in your neck almost insufferable as you peer down at your hastily exposed stomach, and you nearly faint at the pornographic, near-insane image of your stomach bulging with his hammering monster of a cock. And just like that, the tight heat in you snaps without a hitch, and you come tumbling down from the heights of your building orgasm. White heat and light spread through your body, your jaw slacking as you moan loudly, screaming his name as you convulse against him, body entirely limp. Deku, who was barely hanging by a strand, completely loses it when your core clenches like a vice against him.

Hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, his heavy, shaking gasps the only thing you can hear as he fucks into you once, twice more for good measure he collapses onto his forearms above you. It’s hot, almost too hot as he lays on top of you, the sticky fluid of his cum radiating against your already blazing walls, and for a bit, there’s silence.

Deku is the first to move afterward, and you whine as he pulls his cock out of your sore, abused pussy. You make a noise of curiosity then fear as Deku spreads your legs even more open and moves so that his head is face to face with your cum filled pussy.

“What are you–?!” you screech as Deku takes a lick out of your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, this does taste good,” Deku smirks as he once again licks your overstimulated pussy and you sob. “Besides, who said we were done?”

bonus!

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend y/l/n y/n!” Izuku happily introduced you to his group of friends.

“What the hell?!” Bakugou screamed, thrusting a finger at you and all you did was laugh.

So much for not being stubborn, huh.

#midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya smut #bnha #bnha x reader

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minecraftrelatedrandomness · 3 years

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Dream SMP Essay: c!Quackity's Conflicting Backstories

Notes:

Some of you may already know some of this, because I have already posted part of my findings on c!Q's DSMP wiki page. And to members of the Flycord, you might have already found me ranting about this in his loveposting channel a couple of days ago or so.

Everything in the context of either characters (c!) and content creators (cc!) are labelled as such. The unlabelled names would refer to instances where the situation is ambiguous and apply to both.

Citations and links to VODs will be provided as required as evidence.

Content warnings: Death, dehumanization mention, injury, mental health, trauma, violence, etc. If further tagging is needed, please message me by asks or DMs.

Currently, c!Quackity has 2 potentially-contradicting known canon backstories, the first one being juvenile prison and the second one being MCM. I will elaborate more below the cut.

Backstory A: Juvenile prison

c!Q was allegedly in juvie for either 10 or 41 years before joining the SMP. It is unknown how he ended up there in the first place, e.g. what he did to be sent there, and there is very little context to what exactly happened there, other than it being an unhappy and possibly traumatic experience for him.

From what we know, he apparently broke his legs somehow during his second night there, and possibly even every night there. He might also be claustrophobic as a result of this. Since this backstory was mostly dropped after Q's first couple of livestream appearances, and it was mostly played for laughs than for drama, it is unknown how canonical this backstory is.

There are 4 main mysteries related to this potential backstory:

As mentioned above, what did he do to get sent to juvie in the first place?

How did the leg-breaking thing even happen? There is literally zero context to how that could have happened. And every night? Who is doing this? What kind of juvie is this? Can someone please shut it down?

If this backstory were to be played dead-seriously in the current lore and plotlines, how could this have impacted him? Especially because of, you know, the Pandora's Vault arc that we have going on at present?

How was he able to contact the Triple Ts to do their "drug cartel" thing before he even joined the server? Since he was apparently, you know, in jail at the time.

Backstory B: Minecr@ft Mondays

(See video version here.)

As far as I am aware, MCM was first mentioned in the Manburg Festival stream (a year ago to this day, i.e. the day I am posting this), when c!Q explained briefly how his fear of c!Techno to the point of having a breakdown came to be. Later the same day, i.e. the same stream, c!Schlatt mentioned how he and c!Techno "go way back", citing MCM Week 6 as part of their shared pre-SMP backstory.

Later in November (real-life time), c!Q clarified how he and c!Techno first met through MCM Week 1, explaining how he hadn't heeded JunkyJanker's warning about c!Techno's rightful reputation in PVP and then getting slaughtered to the point of allegedly having PTSD. Some of you may know that stream as the one where c!Techno had his infamous 'hunters and prey' speech, by the way.

In December (real-life time), c!Q cited MCM-trauma as one of his more personal reasons for hunting c!Techno down as part of the Butcher Army. The content creators then joked about them making MCM canon to the DSMP, and while the content creators were lighthearted about it, MCM therefore became a dead-serious, fully-fledged part of the DSMP lore.

I'm not 100% sure if other Weeks of MCM are considered canonical (they might be), but there's solid confirmation to how Weeks 1 and 6 are specified to be canon. cc!Q participated in Weeks 1, 2, 6, 8, and 12 of MCM, but since I cannot find the kill records of Weeks 8 and 12, let's hypothetically take those off the list for Q-and-Techno encounters (for now, I might return if/when I get more data). In MCM Week 2, the two did not actively interact (i.e. kill each other) at any point, which leaves us with Weeks 1 and 6, and wouldn't you know it — those are the two Weeks where Quackity got murked "so many times".

Week 1: Q's deaths in Rounds 6 and 8 are both attributed to Techno, but the one in Round 8 was actually death-by-border, which doesn't really count. Round 6, however, Techno just hunted Q down to the point he had no way out, border or enchanted diamond sword to the torso. (Techno POV + Quackity POV)

Week 6: Unlike the earliest MCM Weeks, this one only had Hunger Games in Rounds 1 and 9 (beginning and end), and not every single round. Q also happened to get knocked out of the game by Techno in both rounds. (Round 1: (Quackity POV + Techno POV) (Round 9: Quackity POV + Techno POV)

I was a little skeptical at first that one encounter would lead to enough trauma to have a PTSD diagnosis, but after remembering and looking up Week 6, then taking that into consideration as well, I am not quite as skeptical of the PTSD claim anymore.

And here are an additional 6 mysteries, or details that make the MCM encounters angstier (excluding anything related to inter-worldly canon life-counts):

Schlatt was teamed with Techno during Week 6, meaning c!Q also knew him at least in passing before all three of them joined the DSMP at different times (excluding the possibility of SMP Live being canon, which opens up a different can of worms that I am not equipped to deal with). Now recall c!Q and c!Schlatt interacting again on the DSMP… no, I am not happy about this. Especially bearing in mind Schlatt during Round 9 of Week 6 (see link).

During Week 6 Round 1, after spotting Q + JunkyJanker, Techno decided to go after them and avoid Yammy and her teammate because the latter two were "sentient players". In other words… ouch.

On a funnier note, right after killing Q (in Week 6 Round 1), Techno got border-killed. TAKE THAT! Karma went and collected his debt, I suppose. /lh

Q getting bonked in Week 6 Round 9 took place in the water. If we are going with the Duck Hybrid theory that canon has provided crumbs of possible supporting evidence… ouch. Again.

On a side note, could MCM and related tournaments have caused trauma in other characters in the DSMP-verse?

Also, multiple other content creators who are now part of the DSMP also participated in MCM, e.g. Philza, Connor, BBH, Skeppy, even Dream at one point. Would MCM be counted as part of their backstories as well? How can we explain their participation in the event while still adhering to their respective canon backstories?

Compare and Contrast

It is unlikely for both of these backstories to work at the same time, due to their overlapping time frames. There is one exception to this, however, it's that c!Q was either let out of jail early, or was let out temporarily to participate in MCM for whatever reason.

The only thing that these two backstories have in common is that c!Q allegedly had PTSD from both (A and B), though we don't know if that was an official diagnosis or a self-diagnosis (for better or worse). So either way, cc!Quackity decided that he was gonna give his character canonical trauma the moment he stepped on the SMP, and then just rolled with it until the boulder was hurling unstoppably down the mountain slope.

#quackity #c!quackity #dream smp #dream smp analysis #cw trauma #cw mental health #tw death #tw injury #tw dehumanization mention #c!technoblade #technoblade #my post #17 october 2021 #it is 1am by the time i post this i need sleep ffs #aqua analyzes c!quackity from the dsmp #dsmp jailbird backstory

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cozycottagetarot · 3 years

Text

Pick A Pile: Your Next 6 Months

July - December 2021

Disclaimer: All readings and tarot/blog games are for fun and entertainment purposes only. It is in no way meant to act as or replace professional advice of any kind. You know yourself and what’s going on in your life best so I asks that you trust yourself above all else. Finally please take only what resonates from the reading which may be some of it, all of it, or none at all.

Reading Specific Disclaimer: Keep in mind this is just for fun and ultimately your actions and things you can’t control are the factors that will truly determine how the next 6 months pan out for you.

PILE 1

Theme // The Lovers Rx — Hello Pile 1! The theme for your next 6 months are all about finding your passion and building a relationship with yourself. Are you going through a rough patch right now Pile 1? Because I’m seeing you getting out of it or having a major shift by the end of the year.

July // Knight of Cups — With the knight of cups, I see you need to get your mood and mindset in check during the month of July. The energy you are in right now could be sooo much better my love. I feel like you’re holding back, there’s this brooding energy I’m picking up on. Focus on expressing yourself in some format (creatively, journaling, when talking to others) because if you do so I see you can allow yourself to begin this journey of transformation.

August // Seven of Pentacles — I’m picking up this energy you may potentially have of “when will things start to get better?” The answer— when you start putting in the work. That’s what August is about. Take some time during this month to really check your strategy at whatever it is you’re brooding about and come up with a game plan.

September // Ten of Swords Rx — So far if you’ve taken the tarot’s advice, then in September you’ll find yourself finding your momentum and strength again as the Ten of Swords Rx can signal getting off of rock bottom in a sense.

October // Ace of Pentacles — To me aces represent new beginnings. During the month of October something you’ve been manifesting (remember August?) is going to start coming thru. I’m also picking up on your financial situation improving or new financial opportunity coming through.

November // Ace of Swords — Your are going to be able to think and see things much clearer during November Pile 1. I don’t see a major ‘aha’ moment, but I do sense a subtle "oh my gosh look how well I’ve been doing" type of energy. 6 may also be a number of importance for you here too.

December // Death — Finally we’ve made it to December and I feel so much good vibes. The previous months may have been… challenging and have pushed you to grow, but when I look at the cards I see something beautiful, and I see progression. You started out, Pile 1, with the knight of cups riding forward with his/their white horse, cup in hand (an intention of sorts) and end with Death on their white horse but now a skeleton holding a flag of what we’ll call victory. I know, it sounds morbid, but the point I’m trying to make is that Death represents transitions and endings, and that is what December had in stored for you.

Oracle Card — Chant//Invoke

Yogi Tea Messages — “In every moment of life, you should be what you ought to be.” | “If we are happy, everybody looks up and shares our happiness.”

PILE 2

Theme // The Fool — Pile 2, I’m not sure the cards wanted you to know what’s in store for you over the course of the next three months. Therefore your reading is kind of short so if you have specific questions just send it in an asks. The general energy is very guarded. The fool here represents, beginnings and potential.

July // Ace of Cups — Ace of Cups is mainly about love and peace. I felt inclined to draw another card and out popped the Ten of Swords. Maybe you’ve had a not-so great experience happen recently, and July is about healing from it and trying to find a place of love and peace within yourself.

August // The Hermit — On this idea or energy, I see The Hermit as hinting that during the month of August you may find yourself doing a lot of self reflection Pile 2. I wanted to know what you were potentially doing self reflection on and out came the Six of Wands which, summarised, is about success and recognition. Self reflection on your progress maybe?

September // Death Rx — During the month of September beware of being resistant. Alternately, things maybe moving slowly and in wanting things to move faster, you maybe creating resistance to your blessings coming thru. Ultimately going with the flow.

October // Eight of Wands — I moved the eight of wands and under it was The Star which I hadn’t realised and was pleasantly surprised. With these two cards, I’m hearing if you heed death’s advice of being aware of your resistance to whatever is going on, you’ll see a sudden improvement in your situation. In October things are picking up and the things you’ve been wishing for will come to you.

November // The Chariot — One of the first things to come to me with this card was ‘faith, trust and pixie dust’. I have no idea why but maybe you do Pile 2. I see you having lots of motivation with The Chariot, finding balance, and success with a problem or situation you maybe having.

December // Four of pentacles Stability will be yours by the end of the year pile 2. However there’s an energy I’m not feeling. I pulled a card to clarify and got the Knight of Swords. Things are coming through for you in December but there is also a message to be aware that the chariot energy you’re carrying from November to December doesn’t morph into an energy stemming from greed and superiority.

Oracle Cards — Mystery//Dream & Align//Ignite

Yogi Tea Messages — “Think seriously and think honestly.” | “We are born wise, we are born complete.”

PILE 3

Theme // 10 of Swords — Have no fear pile 3, I’m reading this card as the next 6 months marking completion to a rough phase in your life.

July // 6 of Wands — Success and victory you’ve been growing and working on yourself or a creative endeavor. During July you may find yourself acknowledging your progress, or other’s may comment on how well you’re doing.

August // 8 of Swords Rx — If you have been feeling powerless or trapped Pile 3, that is going to change. You may be opening your eyes to a situation or a truth maybe revealed.

September // King of Swords — I’m seeing you stepping up and being in-charge... being more levelheaded. With the butterflied on the throne, I’m thinking maybe you were more erratic in thought or and emotion? Or maybe during September butterflied will be of importance. Honesty and good communication is also key.

October // 6 of Cups — During October you maybe taking a trip down memory lane, or indulging in old/childhood enjoyments. Someone from your past may also be showing back up in your life.

November // 10 of Pentacles — I see you coming into abundance. It could be material abundance but it doesn’t have to be. There’s also a message of keep doing what you’re doing.

December // 9 of Cups — To end the year off you maybe feeling more content and satisfied with the things you’ve been doing. Keep up the mindset you’ve seemingly come into and enjoy the good things life has to offer.

Oracle Card — Love//Empathy

Yogi Tea Messages — “People who love are giving.” | “Let your energy be used to build not destroy.”

PILE 4

Theme // 6 of Swords Rx — Pile 4, my chaotic little bunch. With the 6 of Swords reversed I feel you maybe regressing if you’re not careful.

July // 5 of Wands Rx — Here this card represents the end of conflict and moving on. I don’t know if it’s working out for you... I feel like you might just be like ‘screw it’ and move on. Throughout the reading I kept feeling like it was related to familial disagreements so for some of you that could be it.

August // The Fool — The fool is about fresh starts, potential and being carefree. While I do see that, in this reading the dog by the fool’s foot jumps out at me as a warning of sorts. While new beginnings may be in the works, be careful of making rash decisions and not thinking things through.

September // Justice — I see things as balanced for you during September Pile 4, maintain that energy of balance going forward.

October // Queen of Wands — For me this is one of my favourite cards because I see it as being in your ideal energy, being your own muse. It’s time to come into that healthy, attractive, confident, creative energy.

November // Queen of Cups Rx — Why would you be wallowing Pile 4? You were doing so well and now the cards show me you finding yourself in an upset and moody energy. This is where familial disagreements really came to me since depending where you live the holiday season really kicks off in November and potentially so does family tension. Regardless of what it is, during November you may need to show yourself some extra love and prioritize self care.

December // 5 of Swords — You’re fiery Pile 4, and I don’t see you as they type to take crap from anyone. You know your situation best and the people around you best so there are two main messages with this card. The first message being one of ‘the world doesn’t revolve around you’. While you need to put yourself first, you also need to understand your actions and decisions affects those around you. Alternately — you need to claim control your rights, your power... whatever you want to see it as. If someone is taking advantage of you, you need to break free and be able to choose yourself.

Oracle Card — Spiral//Cycle

Yogi Tea Messages — “Life is a flow of love; your participation is requested.” | “An attitude of gratitude brings opportunities.”

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card reading #tarot reading #tarot reader #tarotblr #ariesmoontarot #tarot predictions

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

We meet Lucy, we meet Samantha and her twins & Mother Nature gets a little bit mad. But on the upside - she loves Tony :)

Kind reminder that this story will have horror/thriller elements & graphic descriptions of blood, gore and all the nasty stuff associated with superhero battles described in some detail. This chapter contains some of that.

Honestly, this story is getting- uhh- 8-12 notes on Tumblr. It's got a decent following on AO3 which brings me joy because I truly do enjoy the worldbuilding to a, perhaps, guilty amount. So if you like it too - please reblog :)

The fabric of my skirt was suddenly yanked and I jumped, dropping my phone and startling out of my daze. Two big, blue eyes stared up at me, curiousity mixed with impatience in them. I crouched down to pick up my device, coming face to face with a tiny blonde girl about nine or ten years of age.

"Lucy, hi!" I squeezed out a smile at the child. She looked pale, as if she'd never seen the slightest bit of sunlight, chubby cheeks contrasted by an overall spindliness of her body. Her dress was a puffy, long-sleeved, red and white polka dotted monstrosity with at least two petticoats that made her seem bigger than she actually was. "Sorry, didn't see you there. Long day at work," despite there being a worm of anxiety crawling deeply in my chest, I heeded the warnings on the list of rules and swallowed any unease I had.

Which was a hard feat. The stairs had gotten confused and I lost ten minutes of time going back, over and over, after encountering floors "5", "8" and "19" instead of my third floor, in a five story building. The building providing extra floors shouldn't have surprised me that much but the worst was fighting with the desire to explore them, my rational brain unhelpfully supplying that if this building was truly dangerous, nobody would be living in it.

The pull was almost unnatural in its strength yet my protection charms remained unaffected. Too tired from returning to work, I decided to distract myself with my phone - and nearly ran poor little Lucy off her feet.

"You are new," she signed to me slowly, carefully observing my reaction to her using ASL.

I had been truly unsettled by the rule list, perhaps more than I wanted to admit to myself, so I spent a night wide awake brushing up my meager sign language skills. "Yes, my name is Star," I replied, not quite sure if I wanted to shake her hand or simply make myself scarce as soon as possible.

Lucy gave me a closed-lipped grin, swooshing her puffy skirts in what I perceived to be a calculated amount of shyness. "Can I play with you, please?" Her hands moved a little more rapidly as she side-eyed my apartment door.

I briefly ran a mental checklist of the contents of my fridge. "Sure," I figured that two leftover steaks in it would be more than enough for the little girl. I'd splurged and gotten four prime pieces of meat to treat myself after a hectic moving process, cooking only half of them on the first day. "Come on it. You hungry?"

The door swung open as I led Lucy in, her bright dress and pale skin standing out in the twilight of my apartment. She nodded her head seriously, looking at me from head to toe as shivers ran up and down my spine. My bag was unceremoniously dumped on the couch, my socked feet shuffling into the kitchen and beelining for the fridge.

Lucy followed me quietly, taking a seat at the dinner table and folding her thin arms atop it, expectant blue eyes following my every move. As I plated the meat and reached for the roll of paper towels, I felt like I was being examined under a microscope. Somewhere in the distance, a quiet hissing noise was beginning to rise.

Lucy politely declined the fork and knife I attempted to give her so I just set down the plate in front of her, leaving the kitchen to change out of my dusty, sweaty clothes, too tired to really worry about the loud, sloppy and wet chewing noises and low growling coming from the dining area. I decided as long as she wasn't attempting to have me for dinner, I was going to be just fine.

I found Lucy on the carpet of my living room, flipping through a fashion magazine she'd found somewhere after I was done with scavenging some sweatpants from my mostly-unpacked closet. Her blonde curls bounced as she looked up at me with another tight smile, this time looking calmer, friendlier somehow. "I like those dresses," she signed, pointing at a few pictures with models wearing ballroom gowns in all kinds of colours. "And these..." She pointed out a tiara, probably not knowing how to sign the words.

"This is a tiara," I spoke slowly, signing the last word with my hands carefully as she observed. And then a few more times, until she repeated her last sentence perfectly. "Good job, Lucy," I praised her as she beamed at me. The river of quiet, scratchy giggles never stopped as she pointed out various things and I tried to sign them to the best of my ability, Lucy not showing any signs of upset whatsoever if I couldn't get the name for something right.

After some time, it was beginning to get very dark outside and a couple of pointed glances at the clock was all it took for her to stand up and carefully dust off her skirts. "Thank you for playing with me, Star," Lucy signed excitedly. "I like you. Do you want to know a secret?" She leaned in conspirationally, bursting into my space bubble with a lack of care only a child could posess.

I nodded, not trusting my mouth whatsoever. The closer she leaned in, the more overwhelming her smell became. Her pretty dress reeked of mildew and stale water, her breath - of dried blood and something earthen, like moist soil and cold cobblestone.

Lucy's eyes widened dramatically. "If you need answers, go on to the seventh floor. Bring some warm milk and cookies, they won't bother you too much, but be careful and don't stay for too long. You look tasty," I struggled to keep up with her rapid signing, my eyes firmly trained on her. Lucy's hand carefully patted my cheek and in my frozen state, I could only wave back as she skipped to the door and unlocked it, giving me one of her closed-lipped smiles before disappearing behind it without a noise.

The lock slid shut on it's own after the girl's departure. My heart briefly jumped up into my throat, trapping my jerky inhale in-between my throat and my esophagus. Coughing, I went on to double check the door lock before scrambling for the TV remote to add some background noise to the suddenly eerily quiet apartment.

The sit-com that popped up wasn't any of the ones I knew so I sat helplessly watching unfamiliar people get themselves into more and more absurd situations as the grating noise of pre-recorded audience laughter mocked the characters actions. A sudden shriek pierced the late night stillness, followed by a sound of breaking dishes and a woman's voice tiredly chastising the miscreants.

Samantha.

I'd seen her a few times as she smoked her strong cigarettes in front of the entrance, her twins running in circles around the large pothole in the middle of the driveway. She'd been friendly enough, the dark circles under her eyes and the unkempt state of her clothes telling me more than her words, "I love them, I really do. But I just want some sleep," she rasped as she sighed and attempted to gather her two kids.

I didn't examine them too closely but on first moment's notice their eyes and teeth appeared... Wrong. Samantha had taken them inside after that, clutching a coffee thermos of a size truly impressive, and I went on my merry way, trying not to think too much of the poor, single mother and her two mutant kids. I felt a little proud, even, as she didn't just abandon them like many other people did after discovering their children had an active X-gene.

It didn't take me long to cave in and offer my help with watching the twins, Anya and Arman; one noisy weekend bled into the next and I began to genuinely feel bad for the overtired woman. Inviting the two terrors into my apartment was a choice I had made mindfully: having asked Odette about advice on hyperactive children, she had proposed a puzzle or two.

The thrifted, wooden items weren't able to hold the twins' attention for long, and Anya was the first one to begin gnawing at the hard blocks, covering the area around her in splinters. Arman was a quiet boy compared to his sister: he'd stare at the TV or at the walls, avoiding eye contact and conversation at great lengths.

My couch was jumped on, my dishes were taken out and my houseplants rearranged chaotically; it was almost as if they purposefully tried to get a rise out of me without doing any actual damage. I spent the remaining few hours of my Sunday putting things back in their places - all that pent up frustration had done wonders for the state of my apartment; it sparkled, looking cleaner than the day I moved in.

The babysitting became a somewhat regular occurrence, more often than not with me popping in for a couple of hours so Samantha could run some errands and the odd weekend when the twins came over to me so Sam could get some much-needed sleep.

She was a kind, gentle if chronically overworked woman. We clicked pretty quickly over our shared desire for comfortable stability and some fucking peace; neither I nor she had it in sights for the foreseeable future. Sam's reaction to me being a witch was a shrug and a top up to her wine glass as she pointedly looked at her daughter who was busy chewing on a door handle, leaving small, jagged marks all over the dull metal.

I just had gotten sorted with a bunch of complicated orders when the radio interrupted Eric Clapton with an emergency message and instructions to steer clear of the next few blocks over. Something had hit NYC again and Avengers had been called but nobody knew exactly what it was or when it was going to be dealt with.

As soon as I shot a text to Sam, explaining the situation, I immediately retreated to the back rooms, setting up my healing station over the noise of Odette preparing her office for visitors. For some time, I waited with baited breath, jumping at every little noise coming from the outside. The people tickled in slowly, mostly one by one and all were covered in foul-smelling sludge that evaporated with a loud hiss when the concentrated light of the UV lamp in my office touched it.

"Some kind of aliens, I think," a man with a face somewhere between a human and a hedgehog told me, wincing as he retracted his spikes back into his skin. "There's a hole- a portal, right on a crossroads and there's these things coming out. They kinda look like dragons, or flying snakes maybe," the more light breached the surface of his skin, the more relaxed he became. "The Sorcerer and the Witch are trying to close the portal, unsuccessfully might I add, and the muscle is just," he paused, scratching his chin. "Just killin' 'em, I guess."

I nodded enthusiastically, prompting him to continue to rely the state of the affairs as I applied the thick, viscous ointment on a gash on his leg. "It's hammer and Frisbee time," I mumbled to myself sarcastically.

"Yep," the man popped the 'p'. "Most of us are trying to keep the creatures contained to that one block. I saw Iron Man blasting off some of the creatures off of some of my friends," the last sentence contained a great deal of puzzlement. "Though you won't be seeing much of us this time. These things... They're vicious. They've got claws the size of my foot. A lot of us are going to die where they gut us," the sentence was spoken so matter-of-factly, my hands paused on the man's leg, bringing my eyes to his unblinking dots of black.

"What do you mean?" I swallowed in an attempt to chase away the dry, rough feeling in my throat.

"Those beasts... They're smart. One of my friends - she's a... Telepath of sorts... Says they're an intelligent hivemind," the man's broad, warm palm closed over mine. "The beasts leave only the ones that won't get help in time. They can smell death from a mile away. That's how they hunt," his voice was gentle, soothing over the sudden ringing of my ears.

"I..." My mind stuttered, a sticky ball of anxiety, fear and sorrow gathering up in my chest. "I'm so sorry. I..."

"We know what we're doing, out there, we know the risks," his smile was tight and full of grief. "You're doing your part here, makin' sure our babies have parents. We're out there makin' sure our streets are safe. Such is life," the grin acceptance in his pitch-black, small eyes set fire to the tension in my chest.

I exploded, inside out. The sudden burst of decisive, clear-headed energy made the objects around me vibrate, metal resonated my sorrow and my determination, the wood heated up with the force of Mother Nature itself responding to an act of cruelty bestowed upon her creations.

As soon as the man's bandage was finished and he headed out, I grabbed my old, ratty backpack, hastily shoving things into it in a semi-organized fashion. Clean linen strips, bandages, some premade elixirs and draughts, a few jars of salves, carefully tucked in-between the cloth. As I knocked on the door of Odette's office to retrieve the last few items I would need for my reckless journey, the door handle turned on its own, letting me observe her tending a woman who's skin was peeled off most of her back.

"Can't you see I'm..." Odette exclaimed, throwing her free hand towards the door, which did not budge. She turned on her heel, eyes widening when she observed my wide, solid stance in the doorway, lips immediately curling into a small grin. "I understand. Take what you need. It's not wise to resist Her call," the words were spoken carefully, as if not to spook me, before Odette resumed her delicate work of putting the injured woman back together.

Without a word, I finished packing and left through the front door, not needing more than my scarf and my light sweater to keep me from the freezing gusts of wind. My very core was the centrefold of an active volcano, bursting with white-hot bursts of energy as I approached the injured people on my way towards the terrible screeching noise.

This far out, most of the injured were able to make it to Odette's or to the other healer, who's name I had found out only then, but they were thankful for the water I offered them. Not once did they question me: my star-patterned scarf, out of all things, had become somewhat of a symbol for me among the different folk. Mutants approached me fearlessly, giving generous updates on the direction of the battle and the hotspots I probably should have avoided.

The louder the screeching noises grew, the more people needed my help. The stops took longer, my painkillers were becoming a short supply, the main relief provided by a couple of mid-range, mid-strength energy manipulating mutants that began to tail me after I offered to patch them up in exchange for help with the injured.

It was as if I instinctually knew where I was most needed, my decisions were seldom my own. Me and the two mutants bid a haste goodbye after loading up their truck with the injured, although deep inside, I knew that the amount of corpses, bloody and messy, littering the streets had begun to get to them. In a normal state of mind, I would not have been able to look at them either: then, each mangled, broken body only added fuel to the fire within me.

As I stepped foot in an intersection where someone had piled up bent and broken cars, the shadow flying over my head shrieked, taking a fluid nose dive towards another, smaller flying figure. I dropped flat on the ground, the contents of my backpack clattering, watching the small figure in the sky blast the beast with an off-blue ray of concentrated energy. As soon as the creature began it's graceless drop, Tony turned around and flew off, looking none worse for wear.

At the very centre of my chest, a faint feeling of fondness and hope blossomed into tiny little flowers that soothed the aching sorrow for the dead. Each warcry of the beasts from another world fed the anger, the anguish Gaia seemed to exhibit at their intrusion; the revolt I felt upon laying my eyes on one of them made me sweat, hands clenching into fists until my skin crawled under my nails.

The last part of me that wanted to pretend I was in control was gone; my soft, untrained body a mere vessel for a force stronger than me, stronger than anything. Noise around me grew in pitch, some of the creatures circling around my hiding spot cluelessly, aimlessly, as if they could not find what they were looking for.

I moved spots in a daring series of runs, bringing me almost to the portal itself, and the hellish lizards dived into my previous sanctuary, shattering the concrete and the wood of the house under the amused black stares of glassless windows.

The realization set it - they could not see me. Or perceive me properly, I deduced, inspecting the creatures for any sort of orifice except for their mouths and finding them to lack eyes and ears.

My own stare fell onto Sorcerer Supreme, floating amongst a variety of moving golden circles; I was close enough to hear him talking in a language I did not know. Wanda was hovering nearby, holding up a wall of red energy, protecting the chanting sorcerer.

A united screech invoked a shiver from every living being within it's reach, the creatures circling the portal for the last time before flying off in haphazard directions as the portal slowly began to close. I was prepared to cheer, yet, something stopped me; not a second later, the circles surrounding Stephen dimmed as the man himself jumped up onto his feet in alarm, screaming something unintelligible at the Scarlet Witch.

The overturned food cart I was hiding behind slowly began to creep towards the portal. A couple of rats, a pigeon - the animals flew in front of my eyes, rapidly, as they struggled against the unseen force. My hands grasped the handlebars of the cart in vain, I struggled against the force, seeing a moment of confusion on Wanda's face as I floated- no, rocketed past her as Stephen's golden magic forcefully pushed her out of the portal's reach.

It's size no bigger than a doorway, the vile thing blew cold, dry air under my sweater, muffling Stephen's cursing as we briefly collided during our violent expulsion into another world.

And then, there was darkness.

Taglist! @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark

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downwiththeficness · 3 years

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A Thing Most Desired-Ch. 7

Summary: Rosalind was eight years old when she knew she had a soulmate. At eighteen, she vowed never to find him. To protect her family, Rose makes the decision to tempt fate and she finds that walking away is easier said than done. Kandomere/Bright!FemOC AU

Word Count: ~4,700

Warnings: None

A/N: This story contains references to child murder and kidnapping. It is rated E for explicit sexual content, blood, gore, death, and mature themes. Please heed these warnings, if you’re going to read or interact with this fic.

Taglist: @dystopian-dez382

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Awkward. What she was feeling was awkward. Rose sat at the kitchen table, coffee cup in hand, listening to Kandomere explain to Ulysses and Ivy exactly what he’d explained to her a few days before. Comparatively, Rose had taken the news much, much better.

“You want to marry Rose? This Rose?” Ulysses pointed at her with a frown.

She was almost insulted by the incredulity in his words and expression. Almost. Even Rose had to admit that the pairing was a little unexpected. He was...well, fucking gorgeous. Moving with the grace inherent to his race, Kandomere could pull the attention of a corpse. Rose, by comparison, could claim to be in the same league, let alone the same stadium.

Rose looked down at her hands. Living and working on the farm had left callouses on her thumbs and beneath the first knuckle of her forefinger. Her nails were kept short so that they didn’t catch in the dirt of her garden. Rose didn’t own anything that wasn’t bought either second hand or on sale, except for her winter coat. Clearly, their worlds did not intersect.

“Essentially.”

They’d asked the question a few times over, clarifying exactly what he meant. And, every time, Kandomere had confirmed that he was serious, that he was aware how sudden it was, and that it was, indeed, Rose that he wanted.

“And,” Ivy added, “We need to sign a contract? I’m still confused about what we’re contracting for. It sounds a little bit like you’re trying to buy her from us.”

Rose thought Kandomere was being rather patient as he answered their questions. She also saw the little twinkle in Ivy’s eye that told her some of those questions were intentionally seeking to set him back on his heels a bit. Rose also had to agree that the whole thing did, in fact, sound like he was trying to buy her. She glanced at Kandomere, interested to see how he would react.

His eyes narrowed, the only outward sign of his displeasure, “I can see how it could sound like that, but I assure you that its not the case.”

It was in that moment that Rose realized that Kandomere was using his customer service voice. Soft, even, and direct, he addressed their issues with a poise developed from countless interviews with witnesses, victims, and perpetrators, alike. She flicked her eyes over to Ulysses, wondering if he had clocked it, as well.

“Do we have to negotiate a contract?”

“That was my question, too,” Rose chimed in, sipping from her mug.

Kandomere turned his hands palms up on the table, an entreating gesture, “I recommend that you do.”

“Why?”

“Because Rose is human, and elves are not historically known to treat them kindly.”

Eyebrows hitting her hairline, Rose wondered if Kandomere had reached the limits of his patience or if he was using the cutting remark to impress upon them the seriousness of what he was saying. Either way, it had an effect.

Ivy’s face hardened, Ulysses going red. Rose gripped her mug tightly between both hands, feeling the urge to intervene and not quite knowing how. He’d stated a fact that all four of them, without a doubt, knew. Although it was not said quite so pointedly in polite society, there was no denying that elves rarely married outside of their race, and humans were never accepted into the inner circle of the High Houses. Rose, for all the power her magic could bring her, was at a distinct disadvantage.

“You’re right,” Ivy agreed, an undercurrent of venom in her tone that Rose had never heard before, “They don’t. And, if you’re already warning us about how your family would possibly treat our Rose, I think we should take time to consider the decision. Maybe we should think about if this is the best decision for her. Maybe we should consider that it isn’t in her best interest.”

Beside her, Kandomere tensed, and Rose set her cup down, “You’re forgetting that I already agreed.”

Ivy cut a glance at her, “But, it doesn’t sound like its up to you, does it? It sounds like, its up to us.”

“You, actually,” Kandomere bit down on the words, “As the eldest immediate member of Rose’s family, you are the proxy.”

Ignoring him, Ivy reached out and took Rose’s hand, “You’ve always been a little impulsive, Rose, but this is really, really impulsive.”

This was true. Rose definitely agreed with Ivy on this. She wished she felt more comfortable talking about the mirror spell, talking about how she already knew he was her soulmate, how she had been waiting for him for so long. A lifetime of keeping quiet about the magic she worked from time to time was a hard habit to break, even among people she knew and trusted.

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Ivy asked, “Because this sounds serious.”

“It is,” Kandomere said lowly.

Sparing him an annoyed glance, Ivy leaned back into her seat, “So, how do we do this?”

Relaxing a little, Kandomere began an explanation of the next steps, something that Rose was keenly interested in hearing, “My proxy will be my grandmother, Visha. It would have been my great-grandfather, but his wife died unexpectedly in a car accident last summer. He followed soon after.”

Ivy blinked, the tension in her unwinding a bit, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment, continuing on, “I have already discussed this with Rose, but my primary recommendations are that you include yourself, your property, Rose’s farm, and any children we might have in the scope of my family’s protection. Explicitly.”

Ulysses, who had been silent for a while, asked, “Why?”

Kandomere looked at his partner, “You and I are in a high risk job. The likelihood that I’ll be shot, or blown to ash by magic, is significantly higher than other occupations.” He paused, then said, “If that should happen, you—I will want to know that the family won’t sever contact on principle.” And then he hesitated, the thumb of his right hand rubbing against his forefinger as he thought, “There is precedent of the houses taking custody of children from parents who are not, themselves, elves.”

Rose flinched, “Is your family evil?”

The words were out of her mouth, the tone so disbelieving, that Rose might have been embarrassed if he hadn’t just explicitly stated that his relatives could take her children from her if he died.

Kandomere shook his head, turning a little in his chair to look at her, “No, but it is a common enough practice that you should both be aware of and take precautions against.”

A coffee mug dropped from its little hook beneath the cabinets and hit the counter top, cracking open. Some of the pieces slid across the surface to drop to the floor.

“Did Ivy put that up?” Rose deadpanned, her mouth lifted in half a smile.

Ivy loved home renovations, but the woman was not good with tools. It was not uncommon for something she’d put together to completely fall apart the second any weight was put on it.

“Very funny,” Ivy retorted as she stood, reaching up to touch the hook that was still screwed tightly into the bottom of the cabinet. “It doesn’t look broken.”

“I’ll get the broom,” Rose offered.

As she was sweeping up the ceramic pieces, a thud sounded from the back of the house. Standing from where she’d been pushing the broom into the dustpan, Rose craned her neck to stare at the darkened hallway. Nothing looked out of placed, but she felt the temperature drop fast enough to put her on alert.

The thud sounded again, and she registered Kandomere moving slowly as he reached for his gun. From beside her, Ivy leaned over the counter. The soft metallic swish of a knife being pulled from the block followed.

Swallowing back her fear, Rose angled around the dining room table and moved into the living room, her eyes trained on the hall. Thud. She sucked in a breath, unable to keep her heart from kicking up. Nausea swelling in her belly, bile burning the back of her throat. Thud. Rose took a few more steps, stopping when the shadows deepened unnaturally.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling its presence down to her bones.

No answer.

The barrel of a shotgun appeared in her periphery, Ulysses’ large hands flexing, finger already on the trigger. Reaching out a hand, Rose tipped the barrel down, casting a cautious look at him. They didn’t know what they were dealing with yet, and a shotgun was fucking loud. The neighbors would definitely notice.

Though the air remained cool, the house was quiet. Rose waited an extra few seconds, then turned to the others, “Well, that was creepy.”

Kandomere had lowered his weapon, but his guard was definitely still up, “Creepy is one way of putting it.”

“Fucking scary,” Ivy interjected, knife still held at the ready, “It was fucking scary, is what it was.”

She wasn’t wrong. Even though Rose had grown up knowing and working magic, guided by Alma’s hand, this was beyond creepy and she was amazed she had any kind of composure.

Ulysses dropped the shotgun to his side, wiping his hand over his brow, “We gotta get that mark off you, Rosie.”

“I know,” she whispered in reply, her shoulders deflating. “I need to do some research.”

Alma’s book had little to nothing on symbols like this, everything in it tied to spells that Rose knew by heart and could perform with her eyes closed. Not for the first time, she wished her grandma was still there. Alma would absolutely love this, a new magical puzzle to be turned around until she got down to the bones of it and could manipulate the innards to suit her purposes.

Every lock has a key, Rosalind. Once you know the key, you can make the lock work for anything you like.

The lights went out.

Just barely stemming off the a scream, Rose’s eyes widened as she tried to adjust. Though still daytime, the sunlight filtering through the windows was diminished until the room was cast in hues of gray. The edges of every object inside turned fuzzy, and she blinked over and over trying to focus.

Rose didn’t know how she knew it was there, and she would likely never really know. It was standing as it had several nights before, near the window, tucked into the shadow of the curtains. Slowly, so as not to startle it, she turned her head.

It looked the same. Darkness, smoke, peeling skin, red eyes. She dared to glance at the others, stunned to find them frozen in place.

“Oh, I definitely hate this,” she rasped, looking back at it.

The creature hadn’t moved, blinking lazily at her as it waited for Rose to gather her bearings—which was certainly very polite. And off-putting. Wide-eyed, Rose faced off with it, doing the only thing she knew how. Pulling power into her body, she flinched at the swift flash of it flooding her. Wherever they were, it was filled to the brim with magic.

The thing hissed, its mouth pulling back from its teeth. Rose yelped, jumping back, her arms wheeling as she worked to keep her balance.

“The fuck do you want?” she yelled, feeling her throat constrict around her fear.

It head cocked to the side in a gesture so human that it made its unnatural body even more unnerving. She blinked, and it moved, crossing more space than should be physically possible. One long, crooked arm reached out, tipped with claws six inches long.

Shaking her head, Rose took another step back. Her stomach rolled, and there was a frisson in the room, as if the air wanted to crack around them. She could feel the rightness in the space beneath the cracks, knew that it was where the laws of physics would be right again.

Pulling air in through her nose, Rose picked a spot where the air looked weakest, and stuck her hand in. it was a physical thing, this space, and she found that she could pull on the edge. With effort, she worked it open, a feral desperation to get to safety taking over any other impulse she might have had.

It hissed again, drawing her attention even as she pushed her body through the hole. It was less than a foot from her, its claws grasping her throat. Screaming, Rose flung herself the rest of the way through the hole.

It followed.

“What the fuck just happened?” Kandomere was saying, “Where did you go?”

She was freezing, her teeth chattering. Her skin was frosted over, jaw too tight with the cold to speak. Her eyes were on the creature.

“Motherfucker!”

Ulysses fired off a shot, the sound shocking Rose’s eardrums. She knew better. She knew it wouldn’t work. The round landed at center mass, a testament to his skill. It shattered, the shrapnel falling like snow to the ground.

The thing snarled. Red eyes enraged. Its arm reached for him, and Rose reacted in much the same way as she had in the house.

Calling out, she swept her hand across the space in front of her, cutting the air. The magic burst out from her hand, stinging the frozen appendage. It hurt. The pain radiated so deeply that she reflexively tucked it into her chest.

It worked, though. The spell sent the thing back a few steps, into the hole still left between where she was, and where she’d been. Scrambling, Rose pushed sore muscles so that she could crawl to the hole in space. Not entirely sure how effective it would be, she pulled the little tear until it settled back into place, breathing out in relief as it sealed.

Sitting back on her ass, Rose dropped her hands into her lap and tried to come back to herself. She was still shivering, though her body was beginning to warm. Her fingers tingled as blood rushed through them, her legs quivering with exertion. And, she was tired.

Rose was tired in the same way she imagined people who ran marathons were tired. The world around her was her world, but it was shifting around as her brain worked frantically to bring her body back to equilibrium. She could barely hear the voices around her. She could barely do more than sit, breathe, and blink.

“Rosie?”

Ulysses. He’d knelt beside her, was touching her cheek.

“She’s freezing. Ivy, get a blanket.”

A weight fell on her, the scent of Ivy’s perfume wafting from the fabric. Rose pulled the throw Ivy kept over the back of the couch further around her shoulder, slowly coming back to herself.

“Is it gone?”

“Looks like it,” Ulysses answered, helping her to stand.

Rose let him lead her to sit at the dining room table. She stared for a long time at the coffee mug she’d been drinking out of, the contents having gone cold. When she lifted her gaze, the others had taken their places around the table, two of them were looking at her expectantly. The third, to her left, was furiously texting.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

Rose hesitated, “What?”

Ulysses made a slicing motion with his hand, “The...thing. The magic, cutting thing.”

Ivy cast Ulysses a sardonic look, “Magic, cutting thing?”

He lifted both hands in defense, “I don’t know what its called.”

“You’re an MTF agent,” Ivy replied, “Don’t you have terminology for it?”

Beside her, Kandomere set his phone down, flicking hair from his face, “Technically, we call it spontaneous expulsion.”

Ulysses dipped his chin, mouth pursing, “That is the technical term.” Then, “But, that didn’t look very spontaneous to me. Looked pretty damn deliberate.”

“It was,” Rose confirmed, wishing she had more coffee so that she’d have something to do with her hands.

“So,” Ulysses prompted, “Where did you learn to do it?”

She smiled, “Where I learned everything.”

“Ah,” he responded, though his tone was leading.

“When I got to high school, Alma wanted to make sure that I could protect myself, if any of the boys tried anything.” Rose paused, her smile widening, “She said I could use it if I got into a tight spot to, quote, ‘slice off their little weenies’, end quote.”

Next to her, Kandomere chuckled, not bothering to hide it. She glanced at him sideways, unable to help smiling along with him.

“Good to know,” Ulysses said while Ivy looked at Rose fondly.

Kandomere’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at it, “I’d like to offer a temporary solution.”

“Oh?” Rose chirped, eyebrows raising.

He nodded, lifting an arm to rest on the back of his seat as he regarded her closely, “This thing is following you, possibly through the mark. I know a place that might be able to offer some protection.”

She listened doubtfully, saying, “We don’t even know what it is, how could you know I would be protected from it?”

Kandomere lifted a shoulder casually, “It was a stronghold during the war, and it held off the Dark Lord for months. I’m sure whatever this creature is couldn’t be half as powerful.”

Rose was quietly impressive. No. She was visibly impressed, could tell by the way she felt her expression open in shock.

“How do you know of this place?”

Again, he nodded, “Its a family estate, the existence of which is somewhat of an open secret.”

She didn’t know why she was surprised, or how she hadn’t guessed it. Rose looked to Ulysses and Ivy, trying to gauge their reaction. Ivy looked doubtful, but she could tell Ulysses was more concerned with Rose’s thoughts than his own. He was looking at her with an open question on his face.

“Alright.”

Kandomere picked up his phone, rising, “I’ll make some arrangements. You should pack.”

***

Rose folded and then refolded the dress in her hands. It was no difficult task to pack her things, having little with her on the trip. Still, she took her time with it, giving Ivy the chance to say what she wanted to say.

“What do you think of this?” Ivy asked as she handed Rose her make up bag. Her free hand waved around the general facility as she sat on the bed.

Rose looked down at the bag in her hands. It was the same one she’d brought with her the first time she’d made the trip from Montana. She noted that the zipper was beginning to fray. A needed and thread would fix that, when she had the time.

“I’m inclined to believe it,” Rose responded as she put the bag into her suitcase.

“Really?”

Rose nodded, “Really.”

“I,” Ivy began, and Rose could tell that she was choosing her words carefully, “have doubts.”

Again, Rose nodded, “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

Ivy looked surprised, “You don’t?”

No, Rose didn’t have doubts, hadn’t for many years. It would take performing the spell again with an entirely different outcome to case any serious doubt on her situation. Once more, she allowed herself to feel the relief of not having to explain a, quite frankly, embarrassing fact to another living soul.

Ivy’s mouth turned down, “I know that he’s...attractive.”

Rose case Ivy a baleful look, tossing a pair of boots into her suitcase with a little more force than necessary.

Ivy lifted her hands in defense, “I’m just saying…”

Scoffing, Rose said, “I have eyes, I know he’s attractive.”

She thought she might find him attractive even if she were blind. There was something inside him that fueled that magic inside her, that made it bubble up and grow hot until she felt it all over. Rose might not quite understand it, but she liked it enough that she was willing to set her curiosity aside for the moment.

Ivy reached over and took her hand, holding it gently, “I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed. I know that elves can be fascinating for a lot of people.”

Not a bit insulted by the insinuation, Rose gave her half a smile and diligently pivoted the conversation, “I’m more overwhelmed by the shadow creature than I am of Kandomere.”

That was, sort of, a lie. Rose could say with some confidence that she was equally overwhelmed by both parties.

“And, that’s another thing,” Ivy pronounced, giving Rose’s hand a tug, “All of this happening at the same time—him taking you away.”

Rose cut her off, “He’s not taking me anywhere. I’m just going to a safer place.”

Ivy stood from her perch on the bed, hands landing on Rose’s shoulders, “You’re safe here, with us.”

Resting her hands on Ivy’s, Rose shook her head, “I might be, but you aren’t. I won’t keep bringing that thing into your home.”

Ivy hesitated, her expression reflecting torn emotions. Rose patted her hands before dislodging them and moving to her suitcase. She zipped it up decisively and set it on the ground by the bed.

Returning her attention to Ivy, Rose forced her expression into something happier, “This’ll be over soon, and we can get back to having coffee at the dining room table.” Then, with a wry grin, she added, “I promise to dish about Kandomere, if you want.”

***

When they got in the car, Kandomere turned over the engine and pulled smoothly from the drive. Rose watched the house grow smaller in the side mirror, knowing that Ulysses was also staring at the car as they drove away.

“I—,”

“So—,”

Rose laughed softly, and gestured for him to continue.

Kandomere was smiling as he said, “I was going to say that I hope you’re comfortable with this. We don’t know each other very well, and this might be moving a bit fast for you.”

It had occurred to her while she was packing that their relationship, if she could call it that, was moving fairly quickly. A handful of days and two near death experiences had heightened everything Rose thought and felt. And now, she was practically moving in with him.

Rose agreed with him silently, dipping her chin in acknowledgment, “I’m...okay. To tell you the truth, I really don’t want that thing in their house. If its following me, it won’t hurt them.”

She might sometimes do things without thinking, but she never wanted one of her mistakes to hurt the people she cared about. Until she figured out how to get rid of it, Rose was content to put a little distance between herself and her adoptive parents. And, she was intrigued to explore a literal piece of history.

The war may have been two thousand years ago, but the effects were still being felt to this day. Magic was so feared that any hint of it had been stamped out, along with anyone who could possibly wield it. It was amazing that the estate had survived, let alone remained an ‘open secret.’

“That is a fair assessment,” Kandomere said as he turned onto the highway. “We hope to have the mark identified in a few days.”

“Any leads?”

He hummed, non-committal, “There are several possibilities.”

“Such as?” she prompted, a bit of a tease in her tone.

Glancing at her, the movement quick, his jaw worked as he took a moment to think. Rose wondered if he was naturally reticent or if it was a product of the job. Likely, it was a mixture of both.

“We think it is a mark indicative of a minion to the Dark Lord.”

Lips parting, Rose could not hide her surprise, “You think he’s back?”

“No,” he answered quickly, a bit of heat in his tone, “A follower, maybe.”

She looked through the windshield, absorbing, “That makes sense. Do his followers take kids a lot?”

Shaking his head, Kandomere said, “I’ve never seen it before. Not like this.”

She fiddled with her nails, picking at the cuticles, “Maybe they aren’t connected.”

He turned his head, one side of his mouth lifting, “Correlation isn’t causation?”

Rose shrugged, “Maybe?”

Mouth pursing, he looked back at the road, “Its a thought.”

Needing something to do with her hands as the conversation slowed, Rose reached into the nothingness space and dug around until she found a little pot that fit into the hollow of her palm.

“That is unsettling,” he admitted, fingers flexing on the wheel.

Rose cast him a smile, “Imagine being five years old and seeing someone pull a pair of twelve inch garden shears from out of literal air.”

His brows rose in surprise, “I...don’t know how I would have reacted.”

“I screamed and ran behind the barn,” she said on a giggle, “It took the promise of a chocolate cake I’d been eyeing to get me to come back to the house.”

Rose opened the pot, dipped her forefinger in, and picked up some of the balm. A closely guarded secret, Alma’s lip balm was a homemade concoction of locally sourced beeswax, shea butter, and oils hand squeezed from the fauna that grew around the farm. It was mixed together and left to steep for a few weeks before it reached maximum potency.

Kandomere inhaled, “Honeysuckle?”

Capping the pot, Rose’s voice was one of praise, “Good nose.”

Expression subtly pleased, he said, “It grows outside the house, though maybe not the same variety.

Curious, Rose leaned an elbow on the console, “Are there other flowers that grow there?”

In the month she’d been away from home, Rose was beginning to miss getting her hands in the dirt. The prospect of being able to do so again was welcome, one normal activity to center her amid the chaos of what she’d been through lately.

Kandomere gave a nod, “Quite a few, though I am by no means an expert. The garden and greenhouse are a bit neglected. It was my mother who had the green thumb.”

“Really?”

“Really. She spent many weekends cultivating her favorites.”

“I’d like to see what she considered her favorite.”

He turned the wheel, taking an exit that led out of the city, “I’ll take you over to the greenhouse once you get settled.”

“Thank you,” she said, meaning it. “Thank you for doing this, and for trying to make me comfortable during.”

Kandomere paused, the words he was going to say dying on his tongue. He was staring at her, briefly looking back to the road now and again.

“What?”

“I,” he started, turning forward once more. He visibly reset himself, and started again, “You are taking this extremely well.”

She blinked, “Do you want me to freak out?”

A shake of his head, “I just...am wondering when you’re going to be angry.”

“I don’t understand.”

The blinked clicked on and off as he changed lanes, “You should be angry. Your whole life has been about keeping people from knowing you’re a bright. And now, not only does an MTF agent know the truth, you’re being followed by a non-corporeal entity attached to multiple murder investigations.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” she drawled.

His eyes narrowed at he cut her a sidelong glance, “This is serious.”

“Honey,” she retorted with not a little bit of sarcasm, “This might be my first run in with a creature like this, but Alma didn’t just teach me how to make essential oils and cast a few defensive spells. She taught me about the dark things that magic can create when it comes from an evil place.” Rose paused a moment, then continued, “She taught me that, if you aren’t careful, you can be seduced by magic. It’ll make you think that you can do anything, be anything, and then it’ll cull you. Magic doesn’t have a conscience. It doesn’t feel love, or hate, of compassion. It just is.” Rose waited a beat for that to sink in, “She taught me how to wield it without a wand because that’s the safest way to do it. You don’t sink so deep, if the wand doesn’t pull you down.”

Kandomere sighed through his nose, “Says the woman in possession of a wand.”

Two wands. But, he didn’t know that.

“You have a point,” Rose admitted, crossing her arms, “What I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not some untrained acolyte, knowing just enough to be dangerous. I grew up in this world.”

He fixed her with a disbelieving look, “You’re not scared?”

“Of course I am,” she answered, her voice low and rough, “But, what good is being a bright if I can’t figure out how to save myself?”

#A Thing Most Desired #Bright #Kandomere #magic #soulmate AU #edgar ramirez

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