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Village of Shadows - Ch.4 (Dark!DC/Resident Evil 8)

Series Masterlist Here

Summary: You have to face the Joker and Harley before you can get anywhere near Arthur Curry

Warnings: Lots of clowns, death traps, past trauma, violence, injury detail, panic attack description

CHAPTER 4 - A Fear of Clowns

*Do not replicate/rework/translate my work anywhere else without my express permission. This story is on A03/Tumblr/Wattpad. Anywhere else, it is likely stolen.*

The path to Joker and Harley's compound was littered with graffiti, streamers and garish neon lights.

I had no idea how they had so much electricity to power this stuff out here but, when I looked more closely at a neon Joker sign I jumped out of my skin as a Jack in the Box erupted from nowhere, springing a clown into my face that laughed in a tinny mechanical fashion. I tripped as I tried to get away from it, landing on my ass on the mossy ground as I tried to get a grip on myself.

I just really fucking hate clowns...

I got up, keeping the gun in one of the straps on the dress and I clutched the dagger in my dominant hand. I wasn't going to waste magic bullets on two humans when I still had Aquaman and Superman to contend with.

I got closer to the house and saw, to my great horror, that it was a pastiche of a funfair haunted house. I didn't really like these things as a kid, much less an adult but going in there was the only way I could find Arthur's key.

“Step riiiiiight up!” Joker's voice blasts through some speakers as fairground music starts piping in at me from all sides. “One night only, our funhouse is free! Just come inside and see if you can make it out again.”

I hear Harley giggling in the background before it shuts off and I'm left with this nightmare fuel of a clownface spinning around on the front of the house and that organ music repeating on a loop.

“Fuck it,” I say to myself before walking in the door.

Standing around outside wasn't going to do anything and I had the triple motivation now of finding my son, avenging my husband and making John's efforts to keep me alive worth something. If I couldn't at least put on my big boy pants then what good was I?

“Welcome! Welcome, my dear,” the door shuts behind me and locks as Joker's voice starts up again. “What a brave little thing you are. Taking out Diana, oh! Some of us have been trying to do that for yearsssss!”

“I could've done it,” Harley sounds put out. “She ain't thathard to kill.”

“Quiet!” I hear a slap and yelp. “Now, let's see whether a mother's determination can get you through. Did you know Harley used to be a psychiatrist? She managed to get access to your therapy records and ohhhh, the things we found out about you. You reallydon't like clowns, do you? Also a demon attack at a rave, now that wasn't just a fanciful nightmare I'm betting. Unfortunately for you, I'm going to use this all against you. Have fun!”

It goes quiet then, save for the looping music and I step onto a circular tunnel, only for it to start spinning in place like a slow laundry machine. I have to half run to the other side to keep my balance, only to get on an actual balance beam after that that runs over a pit of broken glass.

Three steps across and something drops from the ceiling to the side of me, screeching and kicking. I nearly fall off into the shards and see a clown hanging from a noose, still scrabbling at the rope to try and free themselves.

“What the fuck?!” I blurt out before keeping low and hurrying as fast as I could as more and more bodies dropped, intending to shock me into losing my balance.

I couldn't believe the Joker was killing people around me just to freak me out. John was right, this was more terrifying than running from Diana and her daughters.

I got to the other side and swore in a long string of colourful adjectives to see a mirror maze.

“Eesh. Somebody needs to wash their mouth out with soap,” Joker adds dryly. “I would hurry up in this next section if I were you, dear. A couple of my experiments have gotten loose and they'd just be real happy to see you. Geddit? Real happy? Smiles? Oh my comedy is wasted on you.”

“LAUGH, YOU DUMB BROAD!” Harley grabs the mic.

“FUCK YOU, YOU PSYCHO ACROBAT!” I yell back.

She'd rubbed me up the wrong way ever since that meeting of the heroes. I wasn't going to let her bully me into fawning over the Joker like she did.

“WHY I OUGHTA-!”

“-COME DOWN AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE!”

“Now now, ladies. Let's not start a cat fight,” Joker chuckles. “Or at least if you do, make sure you're both in a pool and covered in pudding.”

“Oh dream on!” I flip the bird, twirling around so if there's cameras then he'll see me.

I strode into the maze of mirrors and the door swung shut automatically behind me. Glowing neon paint illuminated on the ceiling above me, some on the mirrors too and when new music started up, I felt a prickling of sweat run down my back to hear that tune that had haunted me for years. The tune that the demon had slaughtered all the rave goers too when I was younger.

We Live Forever by The Prodigy

I lost my common sense at that point, fleeing through one route, only to be met with a dead end and the sight of my own terrified face as I tried to keep my breathing under control. Down another route and I saw a flash of a clown face, a smile stretched unnaturally wide across the lips. I couldn't tell if it was near me or just reflected to look close but I wasn't going to take the chance.

I worked myself up in this horrorscape, filled with visual and audio reminders of the former worst night of my life only to have the added menace of stalking clowns after me. Dead end after dead end, retracing my steps as I got completely lost, my fear ruling my logic.

I got grabbed by something and I slashed behind me with the knife, only to see I'd cut off the hand of an attacking clown that fell to the floor with a dull thud. I didn't even know how, there was no resistance to the swing I'd had. It had just cut through flesh like melting butter.

“That's cheating,” Joker sounds annoyed.

“You never said I couldn't use weapons,” I growl back, kicking the clown away.

I wasn't so lucky the next time one caught up to me. It got me pinned against a mirror and bit my bicep hard until I was shrieking. I ended up stabbing it in a mad fury until it let go but the damage had been done by that point, a chunk of my skin missing and blood freely weeping down my arm and fingers.

“What a shame,” Harley laughs at my pain.

I keep moving until I find an exit, spilling out onto a platform that contained a singular cart next to it, like one of those Ghost Train kind of ones.

“Get in if you want to meet us face to face,” Joker tells me.

So I do, the lap bar moving into place on its own and crushing me a little as the little cart trundles forward. I expect some kind of trap or maybe a haunted house kind of affair where things pop out at me but instead I see screens, screens that are showing videos of my family.

Some are home movies, videos posted on social media from my husband and I but some are taken from a distance, like we were being stalked. Sweet family moments, arguments with my husband when we'd been out for that day, some even taken through the windows of our house. Private moments, very private moments.

How long had they been watching us?!

The cart came to a stop by a door after the lengthy movie and the bar flew up, releasing me to go through. I could see Joker sitting on a chair with Harley next to him, twirling a huge hammer in her fingers.

“Well? I don't have all day,” Joker beckons me through.

I stand up and make my way over, the door closing behind me and I stop a few feet from them, blood still dripping from my wound occasionally as I held tightly onto the dagger.

“Give me the key,” I say simply.

“And why should I?” Joker muses.

“Because I'll kill you both if you don't. Give me the key and let me go deal with Arthur Curry.”

“You touch my puddin' n' I'll whack you good,” Harley warns me.

“If I get what I want, I'll leave you two alone. I've already taken out Diana, you know I'm not bluffing.”

“Tempting,” Joker sits forward. “But Supes does not like being betrayed.”

“And you're afraid of him? Surely you're clever enough to think of an excuse why I got the key or has everything I've ever heard about you been a lie?”

“Goin' after his ego, huh?” Harley rolls her eyes. “Psychology 101. Won't work on him.”

“I don't care if it does or not. He can either give me the key and weasel his way out of being hurt by Superman or I can kill you both. You think that home movie frightened me? It just made me mad. You miscalculated.”

“It wasn't intended to frighten you,” Joker laughs. “Harley and I had a bet, y'see? I thought a fine upstanding mother like yourself would stop at nothing to get your son back, even if it meant murder. Harley thought you were a scared little girl pretending to be brave because you thought it was what you were supposed to do. I think I won this particular bet. You're not afraid, are you? Not any more at least. Oh no, you're pissed.”

“Stop monologuing and give me the key,” I say directly. “You want some psychology? You like watching the world burn? I'm going to kill everyone who gets in my way and that includes Superman. I will find a way and you can laugh that a pathetic human was the one to do that, that she let you live to see it.”

“But if you kill all my rivals, how will I ever have fun?” Joker shrugs.

“Because now you have a new one. You have me.”

He bursts out in hysterical peals of laughter and Harley follows suit, doubling over until she has to hit the ground on her knees to keep her balance.

“YOU?!” Joker gets out. “You're going to be my new rival?! AHA!”

He laughs so much I see the shine of tears on his face. I don't care that I'm being mocked. It's all part of a risky gamble I'm taking anyway, to see if I can amuse him enough into making a chaotic choice to help me.

“That's a good one!” Harley's screaming with giggles on the floor. “A talentless ordinary nobody! You ain't even got cool gadgets!”

“Diana said I wasn't ordinary. My blood was tainted with something unnatural,” I address her and the Joker shuts up immediately.

“Oh really?” he looks a lot more interested now. “Y'know, just for the sheer laughter value of you, my dear, you can have this.”

He tugs the key off of his neck and throws it to me. I catch it, retying it around my own.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I give a brief nod.

“If you don't start becoming my rival after this, I'll hunt you down and strangle you myself,” he grins. “Providing you survive of course.”

“You're just givin' her the key?!” Harley bolts up to her feet.

“We may have a semi meta-human here,” he lazily gestures to me. “Now wouldn't that be interesting to torment some more? I'd really like to dig down into that brain a' yours and find out your darkest fears and your darkest humour.”

“Maybe you'll find out someday,” I smile.

It's been an age since I used any kind of seductive technique on another person and I'm rusty as hell at it but the Joker responds well. That also means that Harley responds very poorly.

“Exit's that way, you no good floozy,” she points to a door to the left. “Get the hell out. Y'aint playing tongues with Mr J like ya did Constantine.”

“Not interested,” I reply back acidly.

I keep them in my eyeline until I get outside; I still glance back at the house even when I'm walking back down to the sacred site. I don't trust them at all but Joker seems to be genuinely letting me go.

I lock their gate with Diana's key once I'm back through and I go to the central dais, sinking down onto it as my chest constricts and I find it difficult to breathe.

I'd kept it together well in there but now I wasn't directly in danger, the fears caught up with me and I was having a panic attack, tears streaming down my face and my cheeks burning with the effort of me trying to draw a lungful of air.

“Fairest maiden, do not fret, Etrigan's here and there is no threat,” Etrigan appears at the side of me, sitting down and looking ridiculous hunching over like this. “Now take a breath at the same time as I, slow down your pace, I know you can try. One, two and three we go, remember to keep it nice and slow.”

A demon was helping me through a panic attack. That's not a scenario I would've ever dreamed up, even a fever fuelled nightmare. I think the ludicrousness of it helped me to get control though, the knot in my diaphragm easing until the attack had passed.

“I was watching you in there and I have to admit, I have never seen someone best Joker with wit. Now I see you are injured and don't be alarmed, I'm going to heal the wound on your arm,” Etrigan gets some foul looking liquid in a bottle out from a pouch on his belt and pours it directly onto the bite wound.

It stings like hell and I try to yank my arm back but the demon's grip, although gentle, was very firm. I swore, I yelped and I wriggled against the jangling of my nerves but before my very eyes, the flesh was filling out, the skin growing back over the new meat and all that was left was a discoloured patch on my arm that was the only evidence that something had happened.

“Thank you,” I marvel at what I'd just seen.

“Save your thanks, it was the least I could do when Constantine has asked me to look after you,” he grins, boar tusks protruding more as he does so.

“Do you know where John is?”

“He's close by, oh don't you worry. He'll meet you on the road towards Arthur Curry. Though if something should derail his plan, shout for the demon Etrigan. I give to you the word of a knight, that I shall protect you should it come to a fight.”

“I appreciate it, Etrigan. You're very kind,” I pat his bulky arm and forest green patches appear on his cheeks. I think he's blushing.

“You should make haste, dear lady and get gone, patience is not a virtue of John's.”

“Goodbye,” I get up as he vanishes into thin air.

I walk to the gate, putting the Atlantis key in the lock but there's the sound of a cape fluttering and I spin to see Superman descending to the ground in front of me. I freeze up, expecting to get lasered any second.

“I didn't think you'd get this far,” he's oddly calm and that freaks me out more. “Curious.”

“What do you want?” I'm backed up against the gate, bars pressing into my back. “To stop me?”

“No,” he walks forward until he's nearly chest to chest. “I was just intrigued about the woman who'd killed Diana and bargained with the Joker and seems to have proclaimed a murderous appetite to kill all of us involved with taking your boy.”

“Is it any wonder?” I hate how close he is, how small it makes me feel.

“You're not a natural hero. I'd wager you'd be the first to run from a fight or you'd avoid jumping in to help with one but there's a quiet strength in you that's admirable. I wonder if that's a quality your husband was drawn to.”

“Don't you dare talk about him!” I forget who I'm speaking to for a brief moment.

“Your husband? Why?” he tips his head to the side a little. “You're over it, aren't you? Why else would you kiss Constantine?”

“That's not...I'm not...that's just grief!” I stammer, unsure how the hell everyone seems to know what happened before I went to the Joker's compound. “And the fact I might die soon! Doesn't mean I'm over my husband, you unfeeling shithead!”

Superman bangs on the gate so hard next to my head that the railings buckle around his fist. He leans in to speak next to my ear, breath tickling with every word, “Watch your mouth. You amuse me, you entertain me but I have my limits. Do you understand me? I know loss and I know grief but I never threw myself at the next girl who came along after Lois.”

“John and I already know each other, already have a history. Don't you try and shame me for how I'm dealing with my own feelings, Kal-El.”

“You remembered my name,” I can feel his smile against my skin. “And I suppose that's fair. Humans are more impulsive when it comes to morbidity. The primal senses come out in the face of death: the urge to fight, the urge to feed, the urge to fuck.”

I never would've expected to hear Superman use the word 'fuck' but here we were. It somehow made it even more perverse to listen to.

“So what now?” I'm trying not to shake against him, feeling the raw power rolling off of him in waves.

“Two things. First, you're going to call me Clark. That's a special name between the two of us, my human name. Say it for me.”

“Clark,” I repeat and he lets out a contented hum that's so close to my ear.

“Very good,” he praises. “Second, I'm going to offer you a way out of this. I will fly you back home myself if you'll give up now. Nobody will think any less of you for it. Diana was at a disadvantage with the Helios Curse but Arthur and Bruce as very formidable and you likely won't make it past them to find your boy. He'll be well cared for, you know.”

“If you're not intending on harming him then why can't you let me be with him? Take me as well,” I turn my head to look at him directly but he won't move from his position.

“Because he'll try to defend you at some point from me and things will get complicated. Take my offer or take your chances.”

“No. I'm not walking away,” I don't have much conviction in my voice, the tone quaking a little but he accepts it, sighing before pulling back.

“That's really your final decision?”

“Final decision, Clark,” the use of his other name lends a glimmer to his eyes that I could be mistaking as want.

“A shame,” he tuts. “But I'll leave you with some information that may change how you see your magical chainsmoking saviour. Ask him about the time he impersonated your husband.”

“Wait, what?!” my eyes widen but he's already started walking backwards and shoots into the air, just as something fires from behind me at the rippling black cape.

“Lass! Are you okay?!” John's on the other side of the gate, scanning the sky for Superman. “I'm sorry, I didn't think he'd find you so quickly.”

He wrenches the twisted gate open and pulls me over the barrier line into Arthur's territory and into his arms.

“I've got you now,” he says softly, squeezing my hand.

I look into those worried dark eyes of his but doubt was already creeping in. Did Superman's words have any merit or was he just trying to cause discord between us?

“What's wrong?” he catches my slightly off mood.

Could I really ask this question? But if I didn't I would always wonder what Superman had meant. Impersonating my husband...

What had John done?

Village of Shadows - Ch. 3 (Dark!DC | Resident Evil 8)

Series Masterlist Here

Summary: Trapped in the castle with Diana, can you escape a demi-god and get back to Constantine?

Warnings: Horror elements, forced kiss, violence, guilt

CHAPTER 3 - The Lady Diana

*Do not replicate/rework/translate my work anywhere else without my express permission. This story is on A03/Tumblr/Wattpad. Anywhere else, it is likely stolen.*

I had to get out of here.

Swinging like meat on a hook was not on my to-do list today so I did the only thing I could and started moving my legs to get some momentum. Higher and higher, I swung until I grabbed onto one of the hooks and started trying to use the point to saw the ropes.

It took me so long to even get some fraying on it but I lost my grip halfway through and ended up spinning as I fell away from the hook. My sawing had done enough though because the rope unravelled with my weight pulling against it and I hit the carpeted floor hard. I landed on my left wrist and there was a sharp pain up my forearm but I didn't think I'd broken it.

I tried pushing up using my left hand and there was a grating feeling in my bones as I got to my feet but I was okay. I was alive.

I tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack, looking into the corridor which was completely empty. If I could just get to a ground floor window, I could get outside to John and we could go find Arthur Curry together.

I wasn't stubborn enough to think I could do this alone any more. I was well out of my depth.

The Great Crisis had brought over different versions of Earth's superheroes; twisted versions, jaded versions. A huge war had taken place in Greenland, a battle royale between the heroes and their villainous counterparts but nobody knew who had won. For all humanity was aware, the twisted versions were pretending to be their more heroic personas.

It was clear to me, as I snuck down the corridor and stuck to the velvet carpeting to muffle my footsteps, that Wonder Woman, Batman, Aquaman and Superman were not the original heroes. I'm guessing they had recruited Joker and Harley Quinn along the way.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” Cassandra looks out at me from an open doorway where she's reclining on a chaise.

“Shit,” I breathe before making a run for it.

Trying to outpace an Amazon was incredibly futile but I tried it anyway. When she got close, I ducked into what seemed to be a dressing room where a huge mannequin was clad in Diana's armour. I barely had time to pay it any attention before my panicked brain thought it would be a good idea to jump out of the window to avoid Cassandra's grasp.

“Don't you dare!” she notices what I mean to do. “She'll be so cross with you!”

“Fuck her,” I climb out onto the little balcony. “She's using my son as a bargaining chip.”

“Get back inside and we'll talk it out,” she doesn't attempt to follow me and I'm not sure why. I'm an easy enough target out here. “Don't be an idiot.”

“Come get me then,” I test my theory.

“This is ridiculous,” Cassandra hisses but she doesn't make a move still.

“Why are you....is it the sunlight? You can't come into the sun? Are you not this universe's Cassandra?”

“Clever little thing,” Donna has caught up, clapping her hands sarcastically. “Helios' curse was absolute when Diana tried to directly steal the sun's power for Kal-El.”

“And now you can't be in the sun. Like vampires.”

“Don't call us vampires. Vampires are dreadful creatures,” Yara has appeared from nowhere and nearly made me lose my balance on the narrow ledge with the shock of it.

“But you can't stay out there forever, little mouse,” Donna smiles. “The sun will set soon.”

I look to the horizon, seeing I probably had a couple of hours of light left. I may have the advantage now but shortly I would have all the Amazons after me.

“Then I'll just have to get away quickly,” I look back over the ledge and see a pond.

It was a risky move to jump in there when I didn't know how deep it was but it might be better than potentially breaking my ankles in a straight fall to the ground. The issue was that if I dropped into the water, the gun John had given me might be rendered useless.

I got it out of its hiding place and the Amazons recoiled at the sight of it, fleeing the room. I guess whatever magic lay within it repelled them quite violently.

I threw the gun to a safe place before taking a steadying breath, thinking of the reason I was doing this and then stepped out into the air. It felt so much higher than I'd calculated as I fell. I hit the water at a strange angle, sideways on and I was sure my whole right side was going to be bruised from the slapback of the water.

I struggled to the ledge and pulled myself out, grabbing the gun again. I was shivering with the cold but at least I was away from Diana's minions. Unfortunately I was still in the castle, smack in the centre in some type of courtyard. I didn't know which way to go to get out of here.

I picked a door I thought would take me more in the direction of the village but I dumped my coat that was trailing water everywhere so I wouldn't leave so many tracks. I wasn't about to give up my shoes though if I needed to make a run for it.

I ended up having to press myself into an alcove when I heard footsteps but the darkness hid me as Diana herself strolled by to pick up a ringing phone.

“Ah, Bruce,” she sounds exasperated. “What is it?....Yes I'm aware...I know Kal-El is expecting-...look, you're the one who failed to kill the mother. I have her here in the castle and she may be running around but she won't get far. There's something odd about her though...mhm hmm, maybe you can come by and test her DNA. It's not exactly right...do you think Kal-El already knew?...He never likes telling us the whole story...no, I have it handled...oh Bruce, don't start.”

She hangs up the phone in annoyance before straightening up, still turned to face the table where the phone is.

“My dear,” she says to the air. “I know you're hiding there. You're not very good at breathing quietly.”

I keep silent in case she's bluffing to draw me out but when she spins and looks right at me, I know I'm caught again. She doesn't seem annoyed though, she just smiles.

“I like your gumption,” her eyes are crinkled with warmth. “Precious few escape my daughters.”

“Keep them away from me,” I'm trying to look for exits but I know whatever version of Wonder Woman this is, she'll be faster than I can see.

“They can be a little rough around the edges but we're not used to visitors,” she nods sagely. “Come with me here. I'll get you some tea. You look frozen.”

This is a bad idea, a terrible idea but I had no other choice. If I revealed John's gun, she would snap it into pieces before I even fired a shot off. I had to catch her completely off guard for that and I'm not even sure it would work against her.

“That would be nice, thank you,” I try politeness and Diana beams before opening a door to a sitting room where she stokes a fire and I try to dry off as she fetches tea.

I make sure she pours from the same teapot and drinks first so I know it's not poisonous before relishing in the bitterness cut with lemon of what I think is Earl Grey.

“You really want him back, don't you?” she muses. “Your boy? Even if it costs you your life?”

“Yes,” I answer succinctly.

“You will die if you continue,” she says bluntly, leaning back on the plush sofa. “I think that is a waste of the fire in your soul. My offer was very fair, more than fair. You'll get immortality, you'll get to visit your son, you'll get training from one of history's greatest warriors.”

“And Helios' curse too?”

“Clever,” her mouth upticks. “Yes, that would be given in the exchange.”

“No thank you. I'm going to take my son and go home, back to my old life.”

“A life that bores you. We've been watching you for some time...well, Kal-El and Bruce have. You hate your job, want a different lifestyle.”

“Who doesn't? That doesn't mean anything. You took my husband away from me and now you have my son and I'm not leaving this place until I get him.”

“Then you won't leave,” Diana stands up, looming over me before bending down and caging me on the sofa between her arms. “I can kill you. I can kill you very easily or I can make you a pet but I am giving you the chance to have a life you can be proud to live.”

“A pet?” I really don't like the sound of that.

“A companion, really. See, I like all kinds of people,” her lips brush against my cheek. “Especially sweet little girls who try to be brave. I used to have a pet before you but I got too carried away and she was rather fragile.”

“I'm not being your-” I don't finish the sentence because her hand wraps around my neck and I can feel the sheer terrifying strength in her fingers.

“You will be whatever I say you will be if you don't accept my offer. Now...kiss me and thank me for my generosity.”

The scariest kiss I had ever been a part of was with this woman who was so strong she could flex her hand and crush my entire neck without much effort. When she deepened it, I wasn't exactly going to argue back or insult her so I pretended she was my husband but the softness was so unlike him that it was difficult to sustain the fantasy.

“Beautiful,” she murmurs. “Now, you have something to say to me?”

“Thank you for the kind offer, Diana.”

“You're very welcome,” she lets go of my throat before moving to a wooden chest at the back of the room and drawing out some dresses. “Now, you must change. You're shivering and the water in the pond is quite stagnant so we don't want you wandering in dirty clothes.”

“You want me to...change here?” I balk.

“Is there a problem?” she smiles serenely. “Do you believe you have something I have not seen before?”

I knew I didn't have any choice here so I stripped in the quickest fashion I had ever done before getting into the dress and doing my best to hide the gun in the dropped clothing. The dress had a lot of straps along with the fabric that I didn't know where they went so my plan to not give her much of an eyeful was rapidly falling apart. Diana had to help me tighten things, pull things into place and I figured out the strapping acted like a bra after my boobs were suddenly hoisted up and supported.

“The scars of motherhood,” Diana had run her fingers over my stomach where stretch marks still lay. “A proud visage indeed.”

The wildest thought ran through my head that maybe she had a thing for mothers from the licentious way she was looking at me and touching my skin. I don't imagine she'd come across many since most of the village had been eaten by Lycans.

“So what now?” I ask.

“Now you tell me whether you will become a daughter, a pet or a corpse,” she adjusts my half dry hair. “Oh such a stubborn expression. Perhaps this will loosen your tongue.”

The famous golden lasso fell around me and I'm panicking, hoping she won't ask if I have any help.

“Tell me what you intend to do,” she compels me.

“Get out of here and get my son.”

“And how will you do that?”

“Find Constantine and take down Arthur Curry if I have to.”

“Constantine,” she hums. “What is your relationship with Constantine?”

“He saved my life once. We fucked the entire weekend and then he ghosted me. Only just met him again today.”

“You've had sex with him?” she raises an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“You don't seem the type to fall for his 'bad boy' fake persona.”

“You don't really know me.”

“No, but I'm going to,” Diana laughs. “Tell me your darkest secret.”

I tried to resist, I really did but it just bubbled up and exploded out of me, “I sometimes thought about John when I was with my husband, sexually I mean. The sex with John was so wild that weekend that it stuck with me.”

It was an awful feeling to get that out into the open, like a huge betrayal of my marriage. My husband was a good man, a great father and he kept me satisfied but something about that weekend with John was so romanticised that it kept invading my fantasies at times. It was ridiculous, John was a complete ass, but it's easy to view the past with rose tinted glasses and especially when I was a lot younger then and had more energy to do outrageous things.

“That's perfectly normal,” Diana puts her palm to my cheek. “Good sex lingers in the memory. I can teach you not to be afraid of that. In Themiscyra, we never feel guilt for our sex lives. I could sweeten the offer of becoming my daughter if you wish; catch Constantine and chain him for your amusement?”

“That's barbaric!”

“From what I hear, he might enjoy it,” she takes the lasso off and starts winding it around her arm to make loops.

She's turned her back to go hang it up on a hook on the wall and I grab the wet clothing which has the gun hidden in it and I aim it through the fabric at her back before pulling the trigger.

I wasn't going to be her sex slave, I wasn't going to be her daughter, I wasn't going to let her enslave someone else to keep me compliant. I didn't know if this would even work but the bullet ripped through the fabric and buried itself just under her shoulder blade.

For a horrible few moments, I thought it had done nothing, that she was going to rip me apart for trying but there was an odd flash within her body, like sunlight and, when she turned to me, I saw the huge exit hole where her heart should be. The revolver had evidently done something.

“You....” she's struggling to stand.

I don't think it's a kill shot but it's certainly enough to slow her down and I wasn't going to wait to find out what these bullets actually did. I bolted out of the room as quickly as I could, fleeing in the dress that fanned out behind me in swathes.

Down a set of stairs, into another corridor, to the left and down another set of stairs until I hit a set of double doors that were stuck fast. I could see out of the musty windows that this was one exit out of the castle but I think the doors were locked and I'm not sure I could afford to waste bullets shooting the mechanism out.

“GET BACK HERE!”

The shout is so loud it leaves my ears ringing. Diana is nearly upon me, clear murderous intent in her eyes. She's bleeding from the gunshot but I think it's only causing her to struggle. She was still fast and she was still very dangerous.

In a blur, she's flanked by Donna, Cassandra and Yara. All of them are advancing upon me as I desperately try the door again.

“Nowhere to run, mouse,” Donna taunts.

“Such a bad girl,” Cassandra tuts.

“You're really going to pay now,” Yara grins.

“You will stop this now and come with me,” Diana's fury is still masked by a calm demeanour. “It is impressive you caught me unawares, more impressive still you found something that can hurt me but the game is over now. You will submit or you will die but whatever you do, you will never see your fucking son again.”

There's still sunlight outside, the rays struggling to get through the dirt on the window and I pick up a side table and use the legs to smash it out, letting the light pour into the room. That stops them for a second while I clamber out of it but I yelp as Donna grabs hold of my leg, keeping me in the shadow of the atrium.

Using my bodyweight, I lean further out and her hand hits the outside air, the direct path of the sun and she screeches, smoke starting to billow out of skin and I grasp her wrist, yanking her with me as I fall onto the ground outside.

In a hissing series of screams, Donna turns to ash, flames consuming her from the inside out. I'm not wasting time though, too concerned that if I don't deal with Diana now, it'll haunt me later down the line. So I grab an axe from a woodcutter's log nearby and I Shining the hell out of the double doors.

Whack after whack until the lock is splintered and I kick the door in, letting the sunset spill into the castle.

“Diana!” Cassandra and Yara wail, getting a face full of UV rays.

“What have you done?!” Diana is starting to smoke. “My daughters!”

“Now you know how it feels to have your family taken, you fucking bitch!” I don't know where the bravery is coming from but it evaporates rapidly when she charges out of the door at me.

I think I made a really pathetic scream as I run backwards but that pretty face is already burning down to the bone and she collapses in front of me, particles of her floating off into the breeze.

I'd just killed Wonder Woman.

What I noticed in the ash was a golden key on a chain that was unburnt and I picked it up gingerly, looking at the 'W' pattern on the head of it. I had no idea what it was for but I slipped it around my own neck in case it would be useful in the future.

Now I'd stopped feeling like I was going to have a heart attack, I stumbled down a nearby tunnel, shivering in the wind, where a sign was pointing me back to the village. John was somewhere around but I'm sure he'd likely find me on the journey to visit Arthur Curry.

When the tunnel eventually opened out, I seemed to be at some kind of sacred site. Standing stones in a circle with a central dais and there were several gates branching off from this location. I could see the village behind one.

“Weary traveller, you seem lost and you certainly are not dressed for frost.”

The voice makes me spin around, shakily pointing the revolver at a giant...I'm not really sure what it was. It was very tall, hulking, a kind of plague green with webbed ears and red eyes but it was dressed impeccably. The rhyming speak was the least weird thing I could say about it right now.

“Put that away, I am your friend, a path to you I can recommend. You seek to find your youngling kin, I can offer help therein. I appear as not the form of man, I am the demon Etrigan but fear not, fair maid for I am kind, I think our goals are thus aligned. I have been asked to intervene by the dark arts master Constantine.”

“John asked you to help me?!” I lower the gun which is probably a naïve mistake but this...demon, could have already killed me by now.

Etrigan nods before giving me a dagger, “To meet no end that's terribly tragic, I give this dagger imbued with magic. You might think the design to be quite odd but John tells me this can kill a god. A count of weapons, you have more than one, should your bullets run out in that magic gun. And so I set your course quite straight, the key on your neck is for that gate.”

He points a claw to one that's next to the village gate but I can tell by the graffiti on the rocks behind it that the Joker and Harley Quinn probably resided there.

“No, I need to get to Arthur Curry,” I turn back to him.

“I know you want to disagree but Joker holds the Atlantis key. You cannot progress along this quest, without you gaining Arthur's crest. So I shall bid you a fond farewell, I shall see you further in this hell.”

I look to the Joker and Harley's gate again and was just about to ask a question about whether Arthur had someone else's key but Etrigan had completed vanished.

“What the fuck?!” I dart around, trying to spot where he went but he was gone.

“Lass!” I hear John, he's by the village gate.

I go running over and see he's a little bit bloodied around the lip. I think he's sporting a gouge mark in his leg as well.

“Did you send a poetry demon to give me a knife or have I just completely lost it?” I ask as I get close to him.

“No, Etrigan's one of the good ones. He won't hurt you and if you entertain his medieval la-di-da bollocks, he'll do anything for you. What the fuck are you wearing, by the way? You look like an extra in Ben-Hur.”

“Diana put me in this when she caught me again.”

“I'd better go deal with her,” John muses, looking like he's dreaming up a plan.

“No need. I killed her and her daughters as well.”

“You....” John blinks. “Blimey. You were the biggest scaredy cat going when I first met you. You've grown some massive metaphorical gonads recently if you just took out Wonder Woman.”

“She said Arthur Curry has my son,” I carry on, ignoring his praise. “I wanted to go there next but Joker and Harley have his key according to Etrigan.”

“Aye, he'd know. He's been doing recon for me for a while here. Listen, asking you to stay away from a demi-god is one thing because Diana had a thing for strong mums but a psychopathic clown and his psychiatric nurse goon is something else. Those two will do a real number on you if you're not careful.”

“So come with me,” I take his hand through the bars. “I don't want to do this alone.”

“I can't,” John grimaces. “I'm the only thing keeping Superman off your back while you're doing this. He'd snap your neck in an instant if I didn't. You're gonna have to be brave again, for your little lad, for me. Can you do that?”

“I don't know,” I answer honestly. “But I have to try, don't I?”

“You can still walk away.”

“I'm not walking away,” I say quickly.

“You really are different,” John does a half smile. “More confident in yourself. Kinda sexy, really. I would kiss you but that's highly inappropriate right now.”

“If I'm going to die soon, may as well,” I nervous laugh. “Could be the last nice thing I ever experience.”

“Oh, kissing me is nice, is it?” he gets cocky.

“Don't push it.”

“Yeah yeah, alright,” he presses his face to the bars and I do kiss him.

It's a strange feeling after so many years of being with my husband, someone new who technically wasn't new. I know I should've felt guilt, my husband having not long since passed but I really felt like I was going to die on this journey and I'm sure I'd be forgiven for seeking even the tiniest bit of comfort in this absolute nightmare.

“You go get that key, lass,” John goes serious after we break apart. “I'll meet you back here when you do. We'll get your son back and if something goes wrong, something happens to you, I'll still save your son.”

“Why are you doing this, John?”

“Apart from the fact Superman can go fuck himself for stealing children for whatever plans he's got? Honestly? I've never forgotten that weekend we had. Best little bit of normality in me fucked up life. I know you think I'm a right twatmuffin for disappearing but I had me reasons and it were nowt to do with how much I liked you at the time. Me lifestyle is just...dangerous so I did the best I could to keep a nice bird like you away from that. You deserved a happy life and a happy family.”

“Oh....oh well that makes more sense now,” is all I can say.

John turns quickly on the spot like he's sensing something and two glowing discs erupt from the ends of his hands, teeming with symbols. He looks back over his shoulder.

“Supes is coming. Run. Run now!”

So I sprint to the Joker's gate, using Diana's key and slip inside. I watch John dash off back into the village, leaving me alone with a gun and a knife to take on the Clown Prince of Crime and the Infamous Harley Quinn.

___

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Village of Shadows - Chapter 2 (Dark!DC|Resident Evil 8)

Summary: Taken by the Batman, you awake to a gathering of the exiled superheroes who finally tell you what's going on.

Warnings: Choking, violence, torture gauntlet, guilt, survival horror

CHAPTER 2 - A Meeting of Exiles

*Do not replicate/rework/translate my work anywhere else without my express permission. This story is on A03/Tumblr/Wattpad. Anywhere else, it is likely stolen.*

I came to to the sound of voices.

It sounded like an argument was happening all around me as I struggled to open my eyes, ignoring the pounding in my skull. It was then I realised I was tied up. My hands were bound as I tried to push to a sitting position and when my eyes focused, I saw a rigid set of cuffs, heavy metalwork that were keeping my wrists together and my backpack had been taken from me.

“Shut ya goddamn pieholes!” a shrill female voice splits my ears. “Broad's awake!”

I scramble to my feet, unsteady and imbalanced, only to look at more faces of the exiled and I'm wondering what the hell is going on.

“Chick's got some mettle, I dig it,” Arthur Curry snorts, twirling his trident idly like it was a boredom habit. “Normally Bruce is too rough.”

“Where's the fun in that?” Batman has his mask off, revealing himself to be the missing billionaire Bruce Wayne. “We've never hunted a woman before.”

“And nor should you start,” Diana Prince stands up from her chair, height impressive and intimidating over the other men. “This is Amazon business.”

“Because your girl power club is more important than what's at stake?” Arthur snorts. “Don't think so.”

Harley Quinn skips towards me, grabbing the cuffs and yanking me forward into the middle of everyone. They circle me as Harley jumps on the spot, giggling to herself.

“Mr Superman?” she looks over her shoulder. “Supes? Can me n' my puddin' take this one? She looks like so much fun!”

“Oh we'd certainly have some fun with her,” the Joker startles me, clacking his teeth in a bite near my ear. “Bet she fights back.”

I get tired of them regarding me like fresh meat and I look for Superman, finding him hovering about ten feet off the ground in a black suit before he descends, cape fluttering behind him.

My fight reaction makes me push Joker away hard and he stumbles over but bursts into hysterical laughter as Harley slaps me across the face, her rings catching my skin and scraping scratches across my cheek.

“You stupid bitch!” she shrieks. “You don't touch him! Ya hear me?!”

“Then give me back my son!” I grab her by that ridiculous ruff.

My feet leave the ground and I don't know why until I realise Superman has lifted me into the air, away from Harley and has a tight grip on my neck. I'm kicking, trying to get any purchase I can so he doesn't choke me. Trying to dislodge myself was fruitless against someone of his power level so it was all I could do.

“Your son is mine now,” that chiselled face holds only amusement and malice for me. “But don't worry, I'll be an excellent father figure for him.”

“Why?” I manage to rasp out.

“Survive and I'll tell you,” he whispers directly into my ear. “But somehow I don't think you're going to. You're very fragile, far too fragile. You should've listened to Constantine. I know he's skulking around somewhere outside.”

He drops me and I just manage to get my feet out from under me so I don't crumple and sprain my ankles but my back hits the stone floor with some force. It takes me a good minute to get up again by which time, Superman is on the ground.

“She has a lot of strength in her,” Diana smiles radiantly at me.

“That's not strength, that's fear,” Bruce looks me up and down. “Corner a dog and it'll fight back. She doesn't have what it takes to find her kid. Her husband did though. Shame what happened to him.”

“He should've just let me take the boy,” Arthur leans on the trident. “He was a good brawler. Went out in a blaze of glory against the Lycans. You should be proud, babe.”

“You fucking bastard!” I yell at him and he pouts at me like he thinks I'm adorable.

“Come onnnnnnn,” Harley whines. “Just decide who gets to splat her already! She's bringing the vibe down.”

Superman thinks for a moment, “Bruce. She's yours to play with since you found her. I assume you still have your gauntlet in the basement of the castle?” “Oh I do,” Bruce comes in front of me, yanking me to the side by the cuffs until I'm stood where he wants me to be. He unlocks them but grips my wrists tightly so I can't run, not that I'd be able to outrun anyone here anyway. “Nice to meet you but you're a spare part in this equation.”

The ground gives way beneath me and I yelp, falling down and sliding down a sloped tunnel until I hit the bottom.

“Better run,” Bruce's voice comes through a speaker system. “You don't wanna see what's behind you.”

I take his advice, fleeing down the claustrophobically narrow corridor, squeezing through when it became too tight but I didn't dare stop. I could hear something whirring, hot on my heels as well as the laughs of the heroes

I slip on a smooth rock, tumbling to the ground only to feel a whoosh over my head and see that I'd narrowly avoided being decapitated. It was sheer clumsy luck that meant I could keep running.

The tunnel opened up so I could stand again and Bruce's voice found me.

“Still alive, huh? More resourceful than I thought. Better keep running though. The lycans are loose down there.”

I burst out into a room and only realised when my foot depressed a platform that I'd triggered a mechanism.

Above me was a ceiling of spikes that dropped a foot before stopping, juddering in place. I knew it would continue if I lingered so I scanned the room and found panelling leading to a smaller tunnel.

I practically wrenched the old planks away before scooting inside, just as the ceiling would've killed me. I stopped to be sick for twenty seconds with the fear and adrenalin before crawling forward in the dirt, hoping I didn't get trapped in here. I had no way of knowing which way was out.

“You really are tenacious,” Bruce spoke again. “I've seen better people than you die in that trap. I'm very impressed. Keep running, sweetheart.”

I still had my gun but not a lot of bullets and I was hoping to save those for the people in that room. John wouldn't have given them to me if they wouldn't help in this castle....I think.

Further into the foundations of the dungeons I ran, howls and hungry rasps following me as things ran parallel in the corridors. Just as I got into another room, a gate blocked my way back and a rolling wheel of spikes started edging towards me.

What the fuck kind of medieval torture chamber was this?!

“And that's the end of the mother,” Bruce sounds amused. “Thank you for visiting.”

I fumbled along the walls, searching for a recess and found a shallow one that I flattened myself into, hoping the spinning blades wouldn't reach me. I couldn't duck under it, it was too large and it would gore my back to ribbons.

As the spikes approached and hit the terminal point, I felt my winter coat being snagged, tears appearing and I sucked my stomach in as much as I could until the wheel retracted into the ceiling and I was able to make it to the door on the other side.

I don't think Bruce was paying attention any more because he made no more comments as I slipped out and up the corridors of the dungeons. Guess he assumed I was dead.

I crept around crates and barrels, terrified I was going to be found at any moment but nothing was down here. The only thing I could hear was the occasional scurry of rats or the dripping of excess moisture.

When I came out into a kitchen on the ground level, the window to freedom was right there. For one fleeting moment, I considered running, leaving everything behind. This was the most terrifying situation I'd ever been in and I'd already witnessed a demonic massacre in my lifetime.

To be chased by so called superheroes? Did I really stand a chance or was I just throwing my life away like John said?

But then the shame hit me, the shame I'd even think that for a second when my son was in danger. What the hell kind of mother was I? My husband had died trying to protect him and I needed to stop being a coward and have that same kind of fierceness.

So I looked out of the window at the still village, the smoke of the Lycan fight with John still wisping into the air and resolved to press on.

A sudden face at the glass made me nearly scream but I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle any sound. John was there and his normal shock of bleach blond hair was flecked with dark patches of blood.

“Lass!” he shout-whispers through the ill-fitting frame. “Are you alright?!”

“No!” I answer truthfully. “There's a bunch of crazy superheroes who have my kid, John! They just tried to drop me into a murderous Takeshi's Castle!”

“It's you,” he goes wide-eyed. “The kid they have...is yours?! You're the mum?!”

“Yes!”

“Oh fuck this is not good. Not good at all,” he tugs at some strands on his scalp. “I need to get you out. This is too friggin' dangerous.”

“Not until-”

“-ah fuckin' hell I knew you'd say that,” he scowls at me. “I came here to save a kid. Zed got a vision but I didn't know it was your sprog until I got here. So now you know, will you bugger off out of here so I can stop worrying you're going to snuff it?”

“They already think I died in a pit trap but Superman knows you're here,” I point out.

“Yeah well he would do. Won't approach me though. He's weak to magic,” John turns up his coat collar, shivering a bit against the bitter wind. “But if we.....oh shit....shit!”

He looks to the side of himself, panicking a little before backing away from the frame.

“What is it?!” I ask.

“Gotta run,” he doesn't take his eyes off of whatever is approaching. “Stay alive until I can find you again. Don't be a bloody hero, alright?”

He disappears from view just as something huge and hairy roars by and I duck under the frame in case it looked in the castle. I decided not to stick around where I was if something dangerous was just outside so I pushed on into the main atrium.

It was beautiful, a kind of old grandeur you only see in films. Ahead of me was a portrait of three young women bearing the legend: Daughters of Diana – Donna, Cassandra, Yara. To my left was a portrait of Diana herself in full Wonder Woman regalia.

There was no doubt who owned this castle. I could be at least thankful of that since Diana seemed to be the least offensive superhero there at the meeting. There was still a kindness to her face and maybe she'd give me a clue as to where my son was.

I pushed on into a hall with ornate stairs leading to a sitting room but before I could get up the stairs, ropes had fallen over my head and body. I was yanked back, choked as I fell on the polished marble floor and skidded back a few feet.

“I don't think you're supposed to be alive right now,” the girl called Donna looks down at me.

“Have you caught something fun?” Cassandra joins her.

“A little intruder.”

“Let's take her to mother,” there's a horrible grin shared between them.

They drag me up the stairs with preternatural strength, my spine bouncing off of each step on the way up until they deposit me in front of a chair. Yara is flanking Diana who's listening to a gramophone recording of what appears to be herself interviewing someone.

“And what would you like to be when you grow up, little man?”

“I just want to go home,” I hear my son sniffling.

“WHERE THE HELL IS HE?” I lose my head upon listening to how scared he was and Donna has to hold onto the rope to keep me from jumping at the Amazon.

“Shhhh,” Diana turns to me, a finger over her lips. “You'll miss the best part.”

“You'll be home soon,” Diana's voice continues.

“I want my mom!” my son's crying now.

“I know you do but you can't see her. She's not allowed to come here.”

“She's going to beat you all up! You'll see! You're bad people!”

Diana stops the recording before fully standing, towering over me, her full height taller than most men I'd come across. It was intimidating as hell but I tried not to look afraid.

“The faith your son has in you is beautiful,” Diana purrs. “Be proud he sees you this way. His great protector. Sadly you won't be. I don't sense something 'other' about you. Just an ordinary human woman.”

“Give him back to me,” I hiss.

“No,” she smiles. “He's not here. I don't keep men in this castle. He's with Arthur currently.”

“Then let me go speak to Arthur.”

“Such spirit,” she cups my face and I try not to think about the fact she could squeeze her palms and crush my head easily. “In the face of such fear. I know how scared you are. That is brave and I admire that. I can't let you go though. You were meant to die but Bruce can't be trusted to do that right but....but since you survived, you have potential. I could make you another of my daughters. You'd be able to see your son sometimes when Kal-El allows. I'm sure I could persuade him.”

“Who the fuck is Kal-El?”

“Superman,” she laughs softly. “So? Will you join us? You could have a sisterhood here. Take your pick of men from the neighbouring town on the other side of the mountain when you want company. See your son sometimes. Doesn't sound so bad, does it? Let me just see if your blood will work.”

With a speed I couldn't even see, my arm was jerked up, a blade shimmering and before I knew it, the back of my hand had a clean cut. She put away her sword in the back of her pale blue Grecian dress and licked the blood that had beaded on my skin.

“Now that is curious,” she grabs my chin, scouring my face for some information I didn't know. “You're not a meta-human but there's a hint, a flavour that's not quite ordinary. Not enough for powers.”

“I might be tainted. I had a run in with a demon,” I tell the truth, hoping that'd mean she backs off but she just shakes her head.

“This is not demonic. If it were, it'd burn me. This is something else. I can turn you though, give you Zeus' blessing.”

“I don't want your fucking blessing! Let me go!” I try to get out of her grasp but it's like iron.

“Donna,” Diana looks over my head. “Take her to my dressing room. String her up to the ceiling and let her contemplate my very generous offer. I'm sure she will change her mind soon.”

Before I'm dragged away, she leans down and gives me a peck on the lips before releasing me and waving, returning to her chair whilst she drinks a large glass of wine.

It takes Donna no effort to get me up the stairs. She throws me over her shoulder, her strength incredible before her and Yara throw the ropes over a few hooks in the ceiling, wrapping the rope around my wrists in a complicated pattern before I'm hoisted several feet into the air.

The way they've tied me up, the pressure is equal across my wrists but I know they're going to go numb soon. I just see them laughing at me as I swing comically above them.

“Don't you want to be our sister?” Yara mocks.

“We were going to braid your hair,” Donna pouts.

“You really are stupid, you know?” Yara laughs. “Diana is giving you a wonderful gift and you refuse her? Really?”

“FUCK YOU!” I yell because I have nothing left other than insults at this point.

“Charming little thing,” Donna sneers. “Have fun up there. Try not to dislocate anything.”

They walk out and close the door, leaving me wriggling in the air, tied up and helpless.

Stay alive, John had said. I wondered if I'd be able to.

____

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Village of Shadows - Chapter 1 (Dark!DC | RE8)

Summary: On holiday with your husband and son, they take a day trip together to bond leaving you in the hotel to rest. That's the last time you see either of them. With your son missing and presumed dead, you decide to go looking for closure yourself in the one place the locals keep trying to warn you away from.

Upcoming pairings: John Constantine x F!Mother Reader, Dark!Arthur Curry x F!Mother Reader, Dark!Bruce Wayne x F!Mother Reader, Dark!Clark Kent x F!Mother Reader

Warnings: Grief, horror, loss of a spouse, loss of a child, violence

CHAPTER 1 - The Empty Village

*Do not replicate/rework/translate my work anywhere else without my express permission. This story is on A03/Tumblr/Wattpad. Anywhere else, it is likely stolen.*

I don't remember exactly what kind of noise I made when the police told me my husband was dead.

I only remember sliding down the wall to ball in a heap, vaguely registering the words. My son hadn't been found with him, despite them going on a bonding day trip. He was missing.

“Lot of trafficking groups around. They like to snatch young kids,” one of the cops tells me. “We'll keep looking, miss.”

I stayed in the nice but tired hotel for an extra week hoping there'd be a lead, some news but that hope dwindled everyday I was there. I didn't know whether to mourn for two or one at this point.

I had no family to give me support and my husband was estranged from his own. I didn't have any numbers to call. This pain was entirely mine to bear.

I became like a ghost, rattling around the hotel corridors at odd hours of the day and night. I didn't eat much, only the bare minimum and even then I couldn't taste it.

The hotel owner did what she could for me but I was sinking further into the hole of depression and I began to avoid her, ducking into different rooms when she'd approach, pretending not to be in the room. I just wanted to be left alone.

By the second week, the detective told me there were no more leads. I was to go home, be with friends and they'd ship my husband's body back to me. I told him he could go fuck himself if he thought I was leaving now.

I got thrown out of the station for causing a scene but he didn't get it. He just didn't get it.

If there was a chance my kid was alive and out there, I was not going to let it go.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I put on my winter coat, hat, scarf and gloves and packed a bag of supplies like a torch, swiss army knife, rope and a small first aid kit in case I would need to hike anywhere. This part of Romania was quite mountainous after all.

With a jolt, I picked up my son's bear, fondling the mismatched and wonky eyes that he liked so much. It was the ugliest teddy bear he could've picked up in the toy store but he couldn't sleep without it now.

I bit back a sob and put it in the bag as well, slipping my husband's wedding ring onto my thumb for safe keeping so I had him with me. I knew he'd died extremely violently, almost torn apart from what I read over the detective's shoulder. He'd gone down swinging trying to protect our son, I'm sure of it.

“Where are you going?” the hotel owner looks alarmed that I'm up and dressed properly.

“I'm going to that village...where it all....I have to know.”

“NO!” she makes me jump with how loud her insistence is. “Don't go there. It's dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

“If I would've known your husband was planning on going there, I would've warned him away. That place is cursed.”

“I don't believe in curses.”

“Nobody comes back from that village. Don't go there, please!”

“I have to,” I back up because I think she's going to make a lunge for me soon. “I have to know...”

I slipped out before she could grab me, running through the snow covered town, paying for provisions in the grocery store before trekking out properly. The more I walked, the more dilapidated the road was becoming; paving and tarmac becoming patchy or just fading into a dirt road.

I saw the village name on a post and a lot of warning signs hung on it, some dried and wilted flowers placed at the base of it with faded pictures tucked into the stems. The path it was pointing to was hidden in a tunnel of bent gnarled trees and it could not look less inviting.

Everything in me was screaming to turn back. This didn't feel safe at all but I needed to find clues and, from the tracks in the snowfall, it didn't look like many people had even tried to investigate what had happened to my husband and son.

So I walked through the scariest fucking forest in the world. It was bright daylight but the sparseness of the trees, the eerie quiet and the occasional crack of twigs set me on edge. My breathing was the loudest thing here as I made my way through, on and on until the trees became so dense they started blocking the light out.

That was the point I got the knife ready. It was tiny, not much use but it gave me a bit of comfort to grip it.

Why the hell had my husband thought this place would be a good idea as a day trip?!

I ended up trying to make my presence quieter, to muffle my steps because my mind was conjuring all sorts of images born from a lifetime of watching Hammer Horror films. I could hardly bear this any longer.

Just when my courage was starting to fail, I emerged on a hilltop overlooking the village.

It was rustic, wooden houses, farm equipment and the most ornate thing I could see, bar the giant castle in the distance, was the church. There was something terribly wrong with this place though.

I didn't see a single soul. I didn't even see smoke coming out the chimneys. Nothing suggested to me that anyone lived here.

I was about to descend when my eye fell on an odd shaped rock and I recognised it as being where my husband's body had been found. So he'd died right here then.

I felt around in the snow nearby, though I didn't really know what I was searching for. I came across his wallet, two ragged lines scratched into the leather of it. They'd identified my husband via the passport in his back jeans pocket and had never found this.

I flipped it open, trying to keep my emotions in check as I found a picture of all of us in the front. Some local funfair back home where my son had won a giant stuffed wolf that had inexplicably ended up in our bed rather than his.

I had been wavering, unwilling to go explore this dead village but seeing the reason why I was here injected some steel into my nerves. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't try, even though, I'll admit, I was scared beyond belief.

I put the wallet in my bag, leaving the picture out and tucking it into my winter pants' pocket for an easy dose of bravery when needed. Then I started walking down the winding path and into the village itself.

The first thing that struck me was that it didn't feel like it had been abandoned a while ago. I could see into some of the houses and some still had meals on the table. This was a very recent turn of events.

The more I explored, the more that knot of dread was forming in my stomach. I could see blood, ripped clothes and a lot of destruction as I got closer to the church and graveyard.

What the fuck had happened here?!

Had my husband been caught up in all of this or did he arrive after? I had no way of knowing.

Something moved in my eyeline but the second I turned to look, there was nothing there. The feeling of being prey intensified the longer I stopped in one place so I started moving again, briefly checking in doors as I went.

When I started finding bodies, that nearly sent me fleeing back to the hotel.

I'd gotten to the town statue, my phone translating the words on the base as 'The Maiden of War'. It looked to be the most pristine thing here.

There was also a post behind it that had two directions. One was 'Altar' and one was 'Castle Zeurescu'. If I squinted, I could just about see lights on in the castle. That might be where I'd have to look next because nothing about this place was giving me any clues other than a massacre had occurred.

As I was looking up at the towers of the castle, I felt something. Just for a moment, I could've sworn there was a hot breath against the back of my neck.

I gripped the knife as the sound of growling rumbled behind me. It was at head height so not an animal...I think. I'd seen some questionable shit over the years to completely discount it.

In one fluid motion, I pivoted and slammed the knife in the thing's eye. It was only when it reared back that I got a good look at it. Sort of a human and sort of a beast. It had fangs and claws but otherwise looked normal.

It was also extremely pissed off now.

I managed to back myself up into the statue and with nowhere to go, I thought this thing was going to kill me. Likely this was the creature that had killed my husband too.

I heard a shot though and it stiffened, falling diagonally and knocking into me as it slumped onto the cold ground. I was about to thank my rescuer when I saw that tan trenchcoat and permanently smug face.

“YOU!” I watch him fiddle with the cigarette behind his ear as he lowers the gun. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“Bunch of weird magical shit and dark creatures?” John Constantine snorts. “What the fuck do you think, lass? Better question is, why the hell have I run into you again in a completely different country?”

I'd met John at an abandoned tube station rave in London in my younger years. None of the attendees had realised we were meant to be some sort of sacrifice to a demon until the carnage had begun and I was the only survivor after John had pulled me out of there. It was only because I was the closest one to the door that I'd lived.

After a very quick introduction to the supernatural, paranormal and demonic, we'd hooked up, only for him to never call me again. It wasn't long after that that I'd met my husband.

“I've been on vacation here,” I kick the creature's body away from me.

“Here?! Why the bleedin' 'ell would you pick here of all places?! Surely Ibiza's much more your style?”

“It was recommended to us.”

“Us? Got some bloke I need to start looking for?”

“Not any more,” I go a bit quiet.

“Ah,” he bites at his cheek to keep his mouth shut. “Sorry like...that I didn't get here in time that is.”

“He died a week ago. My kid is still missing.”

“Oh...oh you're a mum? Weren't expecting that,” he ruffles his hair up. “Not the young tearaway drenched in UV paint that I remember.”

“You seemed to enjoy transferring that paint onto you at the time,” I give him a cold look. “And yes, I'm a mother. I can't find my son and the police are fucking useless so I came myself.”

“Still no sense of self preservation then,” he comes up close and I can see a couple of new scars peeking out from the undone buttons of his shirt. “Because I'm telling you now, lass, your kid is gone. Go home, grieve.”

“I'm not gonna believe that until I see a body.”

“Might not be anything left a' him,” John is nearly chest to chest with me now. “I'll make this as nasty as I can to get you to understand. Your son is probably Lycan food, chewed up and shat out in the snow by now. Leave and go home. Go make another kid. You're still young.”

I'm surprised he didn't see the slap coming but he wasn't angered by it. He just huffs and quirks his eyebrow up.

“Fair. Deserved that and probably then some. Point still stands. Get out while you can. It's not safe here.”

“Not going anywhere, John. Ly-...whatever that thing is or no. I'm finding my son.”

“Because you were doing so well until I came along?” he shoves one hand in his pocket, a sardonic expression evident. “This is my world, lass. Not yours. You're not prepared in the slightest.”

“So come with me then.”

“I've got my own shit to do. Can't be babysitting your arse all the time, even though it's still as perky as I remember.”

“Then fuck off and let me go up to the Castle,” I start walking but he grabs my arm, dragging me back.

“Go back to the town,” he gets deadly serious. “If I have to spell you into submission, I will. Pretty bird like you would be a waste if you died. Lycans aren't known for giving a nice clean end. You get me?”

“You don't fucking get me, John. I can't let this go. I have to know what happened or I'll never forgive myself. Have you never loved someone that much that you couldn't just abandon them?”

“Everyone I love ends up in the ground, lass,” a shadow falls across his face. “Makes no bones to me. Fine, if you wanna throw your life away, charge on into the dark. See if I care.”

So I march ahead, through the gate of Castle Zeurescu. I'm half hoping he'll change his mind and come with me because I'm petrified but John didn't chase me.

Whatever then. Fuck him.

As I got past the arch, I heard a cacophony of howls and looked back to see a swarm of Lycans racing towards John. He just closes the gate to the castle, locks it with magic and throws his gun at me through the bars.

“Take that!” he yells. “You'd better stay alive and give it back to me. That's me favourite gun.”

He disappears in a swarm of fire and smoke and the yowling and scent of singed hair fills the sky. I grab his revolver, seeing five bullets left in the chamber, the bottoms etched with some kind of symbol and pocket it into my jacket before running up the carriageway and over the drawbridge to the bottom of the castle.

I'm trying to look to see if John made it but there's so much fire, I can't focus on anything without squinting. I just decide to press on but when I turn, I'm flung backwards by a hard hit to the chest.

Gasping for air, I claw at the snow to get a grip, to pull myself back up but a boot turns me over and plants itself on my sternum. I look up into a face I did not expect to ever see. One of the exiled superheroes after the Great Crisis.

The Batman.

“You're the child's mother,” he says simply, the distortion on his voice terrifying against the howls of the Lycans. “He looks just like you.”

“He's alive?!” I try to struggle up but his boot presses down more. “Where is he?!”

“None of your concern any more but you'll be coming with me all the same,” he leans over me, expression mostly shrouded by the mask. “The last son of Krypton can decide what to do with you.”

Before I can process those words, he kicks at my temple and my body falls limp in the snow as consciousness leaves me.

____

Link to the Discord Server which is my taglist now

Childhood – Toxicology 1/3

Damian Wayne x Daughter of Poison Ivy!Reader

He was an arrogant boy, struggling as he was pulled between the legacy of being born to kill and the promise that he could change for the better. She saw the world through the eyes of her fatalistic mother, but was forbidden to make sense of it on her own. They shouldn’t work together. But Gotham made their lives align despite all of that.

Word Count: 7,000+

Damian sprinted through the streets of Gotham. It was just another average criminal, which was why his father allowed him to go after them without his supervision. But they still needed the man for questioning. And right now, he was their only lead.

Suddenly Damian came to a stop and growled.

“What is it?” Batman asked in the comms.

“He ran into Robinson Park,” Damian sighed with annoyance. “As if he has some sort of death wish. Clearly he doesn’t realize it’s 3 o’clock in the morning…”

“Or he doesn’t care,” Batman offered darkly. “Should I send backup?”

‘Backup’ as in Damian's older brothers.

It made the 8-year-old boy roll his eyes.

“No,” Damian shot back. “I can handle it.”

“That’s Poison Ivy’s territory, Robin,” Batman warned.

“I’m well aware.”

But the park had only improved since Poison Ivy had claimed it as her own. It used to be filled with junkies and creeps. Ill maintained and unloved, Pamela Isley changed the park almost overnight. She had made it her own personal oasis, and then remained completely uninvolved during the Gotham turf wars between crime bosses.

However, that didn’t mean the park was safe – especially for Robin: the sidekick of the vigilante that tossed Poison Ivy in jail more times than anyone could count.

As soon as Damian crossed the threshold, he felt like he was no longer in Gotham City.

Dare he say the park was... beautiful?

The intention during its creation was to give Gotham its very own Central Park. But the city once again proved that nothing good lasts in Gotham. It was quickly ruined by disrespectful patrons, lack of funding, and criminals that saw it as theirs for the taking.

But now Damian saw the original vision.

Somehow the sounds of Gotham almost completely disappeared. Mumbled by the thick forests. And the air didn’t smell of sewage. No, this was what fresh air smelled like. Damian had almost forgotten.

“Do you have a visual?” Batman asked.

Damian blinked and refocused. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the area around him.

The park was over 300 acres of land. But the guy Damian followed wasn’t all that fast and he could easily catch up to him.

There was a shadow disappearing into the distance.

“Yes,” Damian confirmed as he returned to a sprint.

“Stay alert. Poison Ivy doesn’t appreciate visitors,” Batman warned.

The boy didn’t bother responding. He didn’t need to be babied.

“I have to handle something. I’ll be off comms for the next 20. If you need backup, call Nightwing,” Batman grunted, clearly fighting someone.

Damian rolled his eyes again. Dick would just baby him even more.

Finally he came across an enormous willow tree. The branches were so thick with leaves that he couldn’t even see the trunk. It might be one of the biggest trees Damian had ever seen – at least in Gotham.

The slender and agile branches swayed a bit.

But then Damian realized there wasn’t even a slight breeze. Nothing should be making them move.

As he looked around, Damian realized he was being watched.

Had the criminal double backed and snuck up on him?

No, he was far too much of an imbecile to pull that off.

But Damian felt on edge and unsheathed his sword from behind his back.

As soon as the metal caught the reflection of the moon, the tree seemed to come alive.

The branches rose into the air, like a million tiny arms.

Damian swore under his breath as he looked up at the now animated tree.

“Put your sword down,” a voice called out, almost like it had travel to his ears by the wind. It wasn’t demanding, but softly suggestive.

“Who’s there?” Damian growled. “Show yourself!”

But before he could get a response, his sword was ripped out of his hands by one of the branches. Then another whacked him across his middle, knocking him to the ground. He landed on his stomach.

Damian jumped to his feet and flung a batarang to the branches that were now holding his sword hostage, 25 feet in the air above him.

His shot landed, cutting through the branches and freeing his sword. It embedded itself in the earth.

“Stop! You’re hurting them!” The same voice called out. This time it didn’t sound timid. Now it was angry.

“Come out and I won’t cut this monstrosity to pieces,” Damian warned as he quickly dove for his sword as he dodged the branches that tried to snatch him.

The tree calmed all of the sudden. Which was somehow more unsettling than when it had come alive.

Damian held his sword at the ready. Maybe this person was one of Poison Ivy’s minions. And he wasn’t going to let his guard down.

There was a slight hesitation before the branches parted like a curtain. A figure was clearly hiding just behind them. The night still protected them, holding them in shadow so Damian couldn’t make out any features.

“Who are you?” Damian shouted.

But his tone seemed to make the figure take a step back in fear.

Damian wasn’t known for his conversation skills or diplomacy.

But he suddenly heard Dick’s voice in his head. ‘Sometimes people are more scared of you than you think, Damian. Ya gotta be patient.’

Damian sighed and thought of how Dick would handle this situation.

He slowly sheathed his sword again and held out his hands to show that he didn’t have any weapons. But clearly they were hidden all around his body still.

“I won’t hurt you,” he called out.

The words sounded so unlike him.

But apparently they were enough for the figure because, after hesitating, they slowly walked out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

It was a little girl.

Her eyes wide in fear. Leaves and tiny flowers were woven into her y/h/c hair. But it looked so natural and beautiful. She was wearing a white cotton dress, simple and light. Her feet were bare. Her petiteness from being a child made it even more obvious that she was slightly shaking. Even in the night, Damian was still able to see the y/e/c of her eyes.

Was it because…Were her eyes glowing y/e/c?

“Who are you?” He asked bluntly.

She narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?” For how terrified she looked, her counter was surprisingly confident.

“I’m Robin.”

Her eyes seemed to flow brighter when she asked, “Batman’s Robin?”

“Sure.”

Then Damian took a step toward her.

But the willow tree didn’t like that one bit, and instantly erupted back to life.

Just as Damian reached for his sword again, the girl jumped forward and held up her hands.

“You’re scaring them!” She cried out. “They’re just trying to protect me.”

Damian froze. But stopped reaching for any weapon.

The girl seemed to finally relax and smiled at him. “I don’t really know why they’re so scared,” she giggled. “You’re just a boy…can’t be older than me, even.”

“Just a boy,” Damian repeated in a growl. “I was trained to be the ultimate soldier. I was born to be a master assassin.”

Instead of getting scared or even apologizing, the little girl once again giggled.

“Stop laughing,” he snarled.

She managed to contain herself and stepped forward another step.

But Damian took a step back. ‘Always keep a certain distance between you and your enemy,’ he was reminded of his training.

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” he told her.

But just as the girl was going to answer, Damian was tackled to the ground.

When he looked up at the body that was on top of him, he realized it was the thug he had tracked into the park. When the hell did he get so bold?

Damian growled as he shoved the grown man off of him, putting distance between them so he could get back to his feet.

When the man tackled him though, Damian didn’t realize how close to the girl and the tree they’d gotten.

Then everything happened so fast.

The girl’s skin erupted into a green glow, her y/e/c eyes flared the brightest tonight had seen.

Vines appeared from the ground out of nowhere and latched onto the criminal.

The man cried out in fear and fought the vines that wrapped around his limbs and torso. But they looked to be stronger than metal chains. Before Damian could help him, the ground opened up and dragged the man down, swallowing him whole. The opening in the earth closed and the vines disappeared as if they had never appeared.

“I’m sorry!” The girl shouted out in fear. “I-I-I didn’t m-mean to!” She sounded both terrified of herself and what Damian would do to her now.

“Where did he go?” Damian asked in shock.

“I-I-I don’t know.”

“Did you just kill him?”

It was a stupid question. Clearly he was either buried alive or asphyxiated by the vines.

“I don’t know,” the girl started crying. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She kept repeating it, getting more and more hysterical.

Damian didn’t know what to do. He stepped forward as if he was going to comfort her. But who was he kidding? He had never done that in his life. And he had no idea how to start now. Dick would know what to do. Hell, probably Jason even would.

Suddenly, the girl gasped. Her entire body tensed with alertness and her eyes zeroed in on something in the distance behind Damian.

The boy heard nothing but whipped around to see what she was looking at.

There was nothing.

When he turned back around, the girl was gone.

Damian looked to the tree, but there was an emptiness there now. Somehow he knew the girl wasn’t hiding in there.

“Robin,” a voice said behind him.

It was Batman.

“Where is the fugitive?”

Damian hesitated.

“I lost him,” he mumbled.

Batman narrowed his eyes. “You OK?”

Maybe it was his parenting senses going off that made him think Damian looked a little bit shaken.

“Fine,” Damian huffed.

“Come on. Let’s get back to the cave.”

“But it’s still early,” Damian shot back.

“Nightwing and Red Robin will handle the rest of the patrol. You and I are going home.” Batman’s tone left no room for argument.

Damian tried not to sigh as he followed his father.

Just before getting too far away to see it, Damian turned around and looked at the willow tree.

Who was that girl?

And why did he lie to his father for her?

Damian was never one to put his on the line for others – especially a literal stranger. His actions were out of character.

The girl’s ability were similar to Poison Ivy’s. Was she experimenting on children now?

The obvious thing to do was for Damian to explain what he saw to his father and the family would investigate together. But there was something inside telling him not to keep this little girl a secret.

Robin would handle this on his own.

Sneaking away from his family on patrol was the real challenge. Being 8 years old meant that they all felt the need to babysit him. Even Jason, who acted like he hated Damian, would keep an on the kid.

Damian saw an opening when he knew his family would be preoccupied and in their own patrol territories.

He quickly deactivated his tracking device. Well, he froze it, making him appear to be sitting still on a map. A tactic he learned almost immediately when he arrived in Gotham. He hated the idea of his father always being able to track him.

He had about 30 minutes before Bruce noticed he hadn’t moved.

Damian hurried to Robinson Park.

Since he knew exactly where he was going, he made it to the willow tree rather quickly.

“Hello,” he called out to the tree, feeling rather stupid.

The tree swayed in greeting, almost like a wave.

“It’s Robin. I just…I came to talk.”

He already felt like an idiot, since he was notorious for not talking at all.

To his surprise, the willow branches opened their curtain once again. But the girl wasn’t walking out. Instead, it was telling Damian to go in.

He hesitated before walking forward.

Was this a death wish?

But his concern vanished when he looked around.

Hidden behind the thick branches of the willow tree was the most elaborate and beautiful treehouse Damian had ever seen. It looked so natural as it snaked around the wide trunk, almost as if the house had grown with the tree and was a part of it.

There were fairy lights wrapped around it, making it look even more magical. Apparently, the branches were thick enough to completely shield any and all light from escaping beyond the leaves. So no one would ever know the treehouse was there.

“Are you here to arrest me?” A tiny voice interrupted Damian from his observations.

He looked up to see the little girl looking down at him from what appeared to be a little balcony.

She looked so scared and…ashamed.

“Should I arrest you?” He asked.

Even though he had no such authority.

She didn’t seem to know that, though.

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to,” the girl quickly defended.

“OK,” Damian said surprisingly gentle, trying to prevent her from falling into another panic attack. “Can you tell me who you are?”

She just stared at him for a moment.

Suddenly the same murderous vines from that night and appeared. They crawled up the trunk, wrapped around the girl’s waist, and then gently brought her down from the balcony so she was standing just a few feet away from Damian.

“Y/N,” She answered. “My name is Y/N.”

“Are you a prisoner here?” He quickly asked.

“Prisoner?” She laughed. “Does this look like a prison to you?”

“Guess not,” he admitted. “Did Poison Ivy do this to you?”

'This' clearly meaning her...abilities.

The mentioning of Poison Ivy seemed to wipe all amusement off the girl’s face.

She didn’t respond.

“Look, I’m not here to turn you in. I just want answers. Did she kidnap you?”

“She didn’t kidnap me.”

Damian could see that he shouldn’t push her, so he waited.

“She’s my mother.”

He couldn’t control himself as his eyes grew three sizes.

“She gave birth to you?” He sputtered out.

Y/N giggled again. “That’s usually how it works.”

“Huh,” was all Damian managed to let out.

“Would you like to come inside?” She suddenly asked softly.

It was in that moment that Damian realized one of the biggest things about the little girl.

She was lonely.

Where was Poison Ivy? Did she just let Y/N have free reign of the park and go about where she pleased?

Damian felt like he should say no. Y/N was technically the daughter of an enemy. Poison Ivy had somewhat of a moral compass and wasn’t blindly evil by any means. But she was still a criminal, and one that faced off with the Bat family more times than they could count.

But the yearning in the little girls eyes. It felt so familiar to Damian. An emotion that he refused to let himself reflect on.

“Sure,” he finally answered. “But only so I can ask all my questions.”

‘Good. Give yourself an out. Make sure she knows you’re only here on bat business. This isn’t a social call,’ Damian thought to himself.

Y/N beamed when he agreed to stay. Her y/e/c eyes glowed brighter, making Damian realize that their brightness must correlate with her emotions.

“Uhhh…Where are the stairs?” Damian asked when he realized there wasn’t so much as a ladder.

His head tilted back down, and he jumped when he found Y/N standing just inches away from him.

She smiled at him.

“Do you trust me?” Y/N whispered.

“Of course I don’t,” he snapped back.

“Well then…sorry.”

Next thing Damian knew, the vines grabbed the two children and carried them up into the air, carefully plopping them down at the balcony of the treehouse.

It made Damian uneasy being grabbed by the same things that killed that man. But he wasn’t one to show any fear.

“Would you like some tea?” Y/N asked.

She seemed so delighted to simply be able to offer it to someone for the first time.

“So you can poison me?” He countered with a glare.

Her face immediately dropped and she looked so heartbroken by the very idea.

“Why would I do that?” She mumbled quietly.

“That’s what your mother does. In fact, she probably planned to have you poison me to get back at Batman.”

“My mother sometimes does bad things, yes. But she only does them to people who deserve it.”

“Deserve it?” Damian challenged with a scoff.

“Yes,” she snapped back. “People that have hurt her or the people she loves. And people that stand in the way of her cause.”

He rolled his eyes. “And what cause is that? Crime?"

“Saving the environment, obviously.”

Damian huffed.

“Would you like some tea or not?” Y/N asked, less polite this time.

“Fine.”

“Good. I promise I won’t poison you.”

Damian looked around. The treehouse was like a tiny home. More like a studio than anything. He noted the full bed tucked into a corner. And then the tiny nook of a dinner table with three seats. There was a little kitchen with a sink, stove, and small fridge. Somehow there was running water and electricity available. There was even a small, enclosed bathroom off to the side.

“You said you had questions…” she hummed as she boiled water.

Apparently she’d already gotten over Damian’s poisoning accusation.

He hesitated, thinking of where he wanted to begin, “Who’s your father?”

“Don’t have one,” she answered with a shrug.

But Damian didn’t believe her. “How is that possible?”

“Mother is a renowned scientist. So…she figured it out.” Then she smirk, “And she would rather die than depend on a man to conceive a child.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Do you not know how babies are made?” Y/N asked with a teasing smile.

“Of course, I do!”

“Well, she used bone marrow stem cells in place of sperm to fertilize her eggs. It’s rather fascinating, actually.”

“If you say so.” Damian scratched his chin. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. Batman said Poison Ivy used to house so many orphans. But that was years ago.”

Y/N frowned.

There was silence as she poured the tea and then handed a mug to Damian before she sat down at her tiny table. She gestured to the other sit, silently telling him to join her.

“What happened to them?” He asked.

“My mother’s story is a sad one,” she said as her eyes stuck to the floor.

Damian stayed quiet.

“She had been experimented on by a terrible man. She didn’t know the full extent of her new powers. She always loved children, wanted to make a home and take care of the ones that Gotham spit out.”

Her eyes glazed over as she tried to remember a past that existed long before she was born.

“She didn’t know,” Y/N whispered.

“Didn’t know what?”

“That she was slowly poisoning them. And she couldn’t stop it – didn’t know how. Some of them–” She hesitated and swallowed, her throat clearly dry. “Died. The others… well, she sent far away. Found them homes away from Gotham.”

“I didn’t know that,” Damian admitted. “I don’t think Batman did either.”

“They were all orphans. Or came from broken homes. My mother said Gotham didn’t care about them. So...who would report them missing?"

A silence settled in the treehouse as they both processed that.

“When were you born?” Damian asked, quieter this time.

“A few years after that.”

“And you have the same… abilities as your mother.”

Y/N smiled at his observation. “My mother wanted a guarantee that she wasn’t a danger to me. It would’ve broken her heart. So she made sure I was immune – did a bunch of experiments and research.”

Then she frowned. “But she didn’t think I’d be twice as strong as her.”

“Is that why you can’t control it?” Damian asked darkly.

Y/N’s head hung as soon as he said it.

To Damian’s shock, he suddenly felt guilty for what he said.

Guess there was a first for everything.

“Y/N?” He pushed softly.

The only other time he spoke like this was when he was talking to his pets.

When Y/N finally lifted her head, she was crying. “I don’t mean to,” she whimpered. “I’ve been practicing. I don’t want to h-h-hurt p-p-people.”

Damian didn’t know what to do.

He had never even tried to comfort someone before.

But his stomach hurt. Why did it hurt?

Why did it bother him so much to see this girl cry? This girl that he hardly knew.

“You’re going to arrest me,” Y/N sniffed.

“No.” Damian surprised them both with how steady and strong his reply was. He sounded like his father.

“No?”

“Like you said, it was an accident.”

“But what…what about Batman?”

“He will never know,” Damian shrugged.

“But jail is what I deserve,” Y/N whispered.

“How old are you?”

“8.” She was the same age as him.

“Exactly. You’re a child,” it came out harsh, even though Damian didn’t mean it that way. “Furthermore, the man you killed was a criminal. He had over 15 sexual assault allegations against – amongst other things.”

"Mother says rapists should have their penises cut off," she managed to say as she sniffled.

Damian smirked.

She tried to rub the tears from her face. “How old are you?”

After everything, Damian still felt like he shouldn’t even share that.

“Same age as you.”

She smiled at that. “You seem older.”

“Thank you,” he crossed his arms arrogantly.

Y/N giggled. “I wasn’t complimenting you.”

Damian huffed at that.

“Why don’t you live with your mother?” He changed the subject, looking around at the treehouse again.

“I do,” she answered, as if it were obvious. “The park is our home. She let’s me have my own space. Mother mostly sticks to the greenhouse. I'm there a lot, too."

He slowly nodded.

Damian knew his window of freedom was quickly closing. He had probably already spent too much time here. And surely his father would notice his faulty tracking device soon.

“How can you just tell me all your secrets?” He blurted out.

Did this girl have no self preservation?

Damian had been raised by both his mother and father to never fully trust anyone. Yet this girl held no suspicion towards him. Even when she thought he was there to turn her in, she still invited him into her home.

Y/N shrugged innocently. “I figured the way to make friends is to trust them. I don’t think keeping secrets about my life is how you give trust…”

The truth was, Damian didn’t really know how to make friends. For a long time, the closest thing he had to them were his brothers. Even that was pushing the actual definition.

It took awhile until he got a real one: Jonathan Kent. Though Damian would never call him that.

Clearly, Y/N didn’t have any friends. But she seemed to have a better understanding on how to make them – at least far better than Damian ever did.

“But I didn’t tell you anything about myself,” Damian argued.

In Damian’s mind, everything was a score, a game. And this new affiliation was not an even playing field. He knew Y/N’s life story. She gave him enough information for it to be used against her. And in return, he had given her nothing.

Y/N gave him a shy smile. “Maybe you can come back another time and tell me then.”

Damian just stared at her with amazement. “I…I have to go,” he managed to stutter out.

Instead of waiting for the vines to grab him, he gracefully jumped over the railing of her treehouse balcony and landed in a controlled roll.

Y/N rushed to the balcony to look down at him, worried that he hurt himself. But quickly saw that he was perfectly fine.

“Robin!” She called out before he could disappear past the willow tree’s branches.

He turned around.

“Thank you for listening to me,” she told him shyly.

That wasn’t the last time Damian and Y/N saw each other.

They continued their secret little meetings, always at Y/N’s treehouse.

At first Damian convinced himself that he was on an undercover mission. That he’d find a point of weakness of Poison Ivy – and maybe even Harley Quinn – through Y/N.

He could prove his independence and full capabilities to his father.

But he couldn’t lie forever. Eventually, he allowed himself acknowledge that he’d grown fond of the little girl.

Little girl. She was the same age as him.

Maybe Y/N seemed younger because of her innocence and her kindness. She wasn’t stupid or naive, that’s for sure. She was just as smart as Damian. Poison Ivy clearly had prioritized her daughter’s education – even if it was through her own gaze.

Both Damian and Y/N could probably be college students in another world.

Y/N loved reading books. And she loved watching movies even more. And despite being shielded from the world, she knew an impressive amount about it.

She was a romantic, sometimes allowing herself to only see what her heart wanted to and ignoring the dark realities.

But often she would have moments of clarity, clearly coming from the teachings that her mother and Harley Quinn had made sure to ingrain in her young and impressionable mind.

Y/N hated the government. She understood that not only was it the reason for the planet slowly being destroyed, but that was just the beginning of the issues. It also oppressed so many groups of people, including women and people of most sexualities.

And she had a certain distrust towards men, as well – also compliments of her mother and Harley. Both of them had been in abusive relationships with a man, and had no hesitation on telling Y/N their tragic stories.

“But I’m a man,” Damian explained once.

Y/N giggled. “Not yet. You’re just a boy, Robin. Whether you like to admit or not.”

“So, does that mean you’ll stop seeing me when I am?” He challenged.

Her eyes teared up from the thought alone.

Damian immediately regretted even suggesting such a thing.

Y/N was sensitive and not afraid of her emotions. ‘Hiding your emotions was a disease started by the patriarchy,’ Harley once told her. Y/N cried openly and without shame. She knew it didn’t make her weak.

“We’ll always be friends. You’ll never be like them,” Y/N clarified.

“Always,” Damian repeated. “You can’t promise something like that.”

“Of course I can,” she shot back.

“And who said we were even friends,” Damian scoffed. “You don’t even know my real name.”

Y/N glared at him.

She understood that Damian had a hard time opening up. But she knew what was real and what was the walls he put around himself. But that didn’t mean it wasn't exhausting to constantly hear him in denial.

“You just haven’t told me your real name,” she tested.

Damian whipped his head in her direction.

“Damian Wayne,” she whispered, watching his reaction closely.

Damian's entire body tensed. “How long have you known?”

“Months. I’m not as stupid as you think,” she added.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Y/N shrugged. “I didn’t want you to stop seeing me. I thought it would scare you away.”

Damian was lost in thought. Should he panic? Should he leave Gotham? Was his identity out in the public? What would his father think?

“Damian,” Y/N said softly as her hand reached for his. “Your secret is safe with me. I’ll never tell anyone. Trust, remember?”

He quickly shot to his feet, making her jump.

Hearing her say his name for the first time had done something to him.

“I have to go,” he blurted out without making eye contact.

“Damian, please. Stay.”

“Stop saying it!” He shouted.

“Why?” There was nothing but sincerity and innocence in her question.

“Because. Because…”

But he didn’t really have a reason.

Because he knew he could trust her. She had never given him any reason not to.

Y/N slowly stood up now, too. “We are friends, Damian. Even if you refuse to believe it. That’s what we are. And friends trust each other.”

Then she held out her right pinky.

“What are you doing?” Damian asked.

He had never seen this gesture before.

“A pinky promise,” she answered as if it was obvious. Because it was. “When Harley does this, I know she’ll keep her promise to me – no matter what it is.”

Damian was still confused what he was supposed to do.

So Y/N gently grabbed his hand and adjusted his fingers so they matched hers. Then she grabbed his pinky with hers and pulled them closer.

“Pinky promise,” she declared.

"Sometimes, if ya really mean it, you kiss right where your thumb is," she explained with enthusiasm.

"Gross."

Y/N giggled at his reaction and did it just to mess with him.

Instead of being disgusted, he was taken aback.

And Damian finally acknowledged that Y/N really was his friend.

His best friend.

The two children thought they could live in their secret bubble forever.

In that sense, they were both naive.

To their credit, they almost made it year without being discovered. But it all came crashing down eventually.

Y/N and Damian were laying in a field late at night.

Bruce and Alfred were out of town, which meant that Damian was left under the supervision of Dick. But he’d received a called from Barbara that she was sick. Dick immediately went to her place when she refused to be taken care of at Wayne Manor.

It left Damian unsupervised. He packed a backpack and made his way to Robinson Park with the intention to have a sleepover with Y/N.

Damian tried to hide his smile as he sat on the ground. Y/N was running around him, giggling, with her hand outstretched. With her powers, she surrounded Damian with Moon flowers. They glowed in the dark and even the Gotham smog couldn’t stop the moon from making the flowers brighten the space around them.

“Do you ever get tired?” Damian pretended to be annoyed with her antics.

“Nope!” Y/N called and continued making herself dizzy with her circling.

Finally she had to catch her breath and threw herself on the ground beside him in a fit of breathy giggles.

“They like you, you know.”

“Who?” Damian asked.

“The plants. The trees. The flowers. All of them. They like when you come to visit.”

Little did she know, they liked that he made her happy when he visited.

“You can talk to them?” Damian asked with skepticism.

He always had thought she was just able to control them, that they were just an extension of her.

“Of course,” she laughed. Then she tilted her head. “It’s not like we have conversations about philosophy. But it’s like…I don’t know how to explain it. I know what they’re feeling. I know what they need.”

“Huh,” Damian sighed.

Suddenly, the surrounding flowers disappeared, burrowing into the ground as if they were hiding in fright.

Y/N looked around in a panic and Damian realized it was not her doing.

Next thing they knew, roots shot up from the ground, latching around Damian's neck, pulling him off his feet to hang and strangle.

Y/N jumped to her feet and turned to find her mother walking towards them.

“I knew you’d been keeping secrets from me,” Poison Ivy growled to her daughter, “But I never expected this.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Damian managed to choke out.

Poison Ivy brought him slightly down, closer to her face. “Well, you should be.”

“Mother! Please!” Y/N begged. “Let him go! He’s my friend!”

“You choose him – him – over your family!?” Poison Ivy yelled.

“I’m not choosing anyone over anyone!” She cried. “He’s my friend. My only friend. Please, mother, please don’t hurt him.”

Poison Ivy had never seen her daughter react in such a way. Suddenly she remembered how Y/N was so used to hide in the trees, watching kids playing in the park. Y/N had always been cautious of the outside world, scared she might have an episode or accidentally entrance someone with her powers – or worse, poison them to death.

So much of Y/N childhood was filled with isolation and fear.

And her mother suddenly had a depression realization: her daughter was lonely.

Poison Ivy’s anger was traded for sadness.

Slowly, she lowered Damian to the ground.

He fell to his knees and was overcome with a coughing fit.

Y/N rushed to his side and comforted him.

“I’m fine,” he told her, feeling how stressed she was for him.

Then Poison Ivy’s feet walked into his line of vision.

Damian looked up to see her towering over them.

“Listen to me and listen to me carefully,” she hissed. “If you do anything to hurt her – anything – I will end you.”

Damian wanted to say he would never do such a thing. But he didn’t want to validate such a threat with an response.

“I know who you are now,” Poison Ivy added as she looked him up and down. “And I’m not above using it against you if you should do anything to my daughter.”

“He won’t,” Y/N spoke for him as she glared at her mother.

She now shifted her glare to her daughter. “And you…we’re going to have a long discussion about keeping secrets from us and fraternizing with the enemy.”

Y/N was smart enough to at least look guilty.

Her attention shifted back to Damian. “I think it’s time for you to go home.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

“I’ll walk him out,” Y/N said gently.

Her mother hesitated before nodding.

As Y/N escorted Damian to the edge of the park, a silence had enveloped them.

They didn’t speak until Damian reached his hidden opening.

“Please come back,” Y/N almost whimpered, frightened by the idea that her mother might’ve scared off the only friend she'd ever had.

“I meant it when I said I wasn’t afraid of her,” Damian promised.

Y/N pulled him into a tight hug, holding on for dear life as if it was their final goodbye.

“I’m not leaving you,” Damian whispered into her hair.

Slowly, he was getting better at comforting others. Well, he was getting better at comforting Y/N. He didn’t really care much for trying with anyone else.

Finally she allowed him to pull away from her embrace.

“Believe me,” Damian smirked. “It would’ve been much worse if my father found out.”

“Well, I hope we never have to worry about that,” Y/N sighed.

“Will your mother really allow us to be friends?”

“I know you only see my mother as just another criminal of Gotham,” she muttered. “But she is still my mother. And she only wants me to be happy and safe. And you make me happy, Damian. She would never take that away from me.”

“And she’ll keep our secret?”

“Well…” Y/N cringed. “Yes. But that means telling Harley, too.”

“Oh, great,” Damian moaned.

“But they are overprotective of me. And they’ll know telling your secret is more dangerous to me than anything else.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “I promise.”

Damian nodded, believing her.

Even though all his training was screaming at him that this was the worst possible outcome.

He shook his head. “Hey, I was planning on giving you this tonight.”

Then he pulled out a cellphone and handed it to her.

“I know you don’t like technology,” Damian shrugged. “But this way we can keep in touch. It’s completely untraceable, and all of the calls and messages will be encrypted.”

Y/N seemed shocked at first, and a beaming smile slowly formed on her lips.

She tackled him into another hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is!” She argued.

And by the time Damian returned to Wayne Manor, he'd already received a message from Y/N, asking him to tell her when he got home safely.

Y/N hadn’t been lying about her mother and Harley keeping her friendship a secret and keeping Damian’s identity a secret.

It made the children’s friendship easier. Who knew it was better to only keep it a secret from one family instead of two? And who would've thought the family to be the first to accept it would be the villainous one?

But Poison Ivy made it clear she still hated Damian. But at least she tolerated him.

Now that the two kids had phones to communicate, they grew even closer.

Everyday, Y/N would send Damian videos of flowers she’d magically grown or her trees waving hello.

In return, Damian would send photos of his pets. Usually it was Titus playing in the yard or Alfred the cat sleeping in his lap.

Y/N fell in love with all of Damian's pets and constantly begged him to bring them on his next visit.

Harley thought the two of them were adorable, but Poison Ivy would roll her eyes and scoff whenever her girlfriend made that known.

Y/N Isley and Damian Wayne's friendship continued for years.

Damian never told a soul about her.

And Y/N kept Damian’s identity close to her heart.

3 YEARS LATER

“This is ridiculous!” Damian growled as he paced in the cave.

“Our dads said it was pretty dangerous,” Jon offered with a shrug.

“You might as well be a pet for how compliant you are,” Damian snapped back. “I’ve trained my whole life to be capable enough to handle missions like this. We could be helping them right now. But they treat us like we’re children!"

“We are children,” Jon deadpanned.

“We’re 11 years old.”

Jon rolled his eyes.

Damian was going to continue his tangent, but something on the cave’s monitors caught his attention. He shot forward to get a better look.

There was a fire – a huge one – in Robinson Park. Then he zoomed in on the live feed of the news broadcast that was reporting it.

“The Joker,” Damian growled.

“The Joker? But that’s not who our dads are dealing with.”

“This is Gotham, Kent. The Joker is probably using that as a distraction to make a move on Poison Ivy.”

“Poison Ivy? What beef does he have with Poison Ivy?”

“Harley Quinn,” was all Damian had time to explain.

He whipped around and tightly gripped Jon’s shoulders, staring into his eyes.

“Jon, I need your help.”

“Okkkkk,” he said slowly. “I’m not gonna like this, am I?”

“I need you to fly me to Robinson Park.”

“Dami, I don’t know. Dad’s told me about her before. She was strong enough to hypnotize and control him! He almost killed your dad because of it!”

“Do you trust me?” Damian challenged.

“I-I-I…”

“Do you or not?” Damian didn’t have time for this.

Jon glared. “Yes.”

“So then take me there.”

Jon had never seen Damian desperate before – or even stressed.

The boy didn’t fully understand what was going on. But from Damian’s reaction, he could tell it was important.

“Fine. Hold on, OK?” Jon asked before wrapping Damian’s arms around his back.

They shot out of the cave.

Damian managed to scream directions to Jon, but the boy already knew where the fire was from his super hearing.

Jon managed to land right in front of the Y/N’s willow tree.

Damian was horrified when it was completely engulfed in flames.

“No,” he gasped. “No, no, no.”

He jolted into a sprint.

“Damian, no!” Jon tried to cry out.

But he ignored him.

“Y/N!” Damian screamed at the top of his lungs.

In a panic, Jon started blowing out the fire with his freeze breath. He knew there was no stopping Damian, so all he could do was try and help – even though he didn’t really know what he was helping with.

Why was he worried about a single tree?

The willow tree should’ve been protecting her. It should’ve been keeping her safe. But the branches hung limp. The fire had already killed it.

Damian’s Robin suit barely protected him from the heat of the fire.

“Y/N!” He screamed again.

Once he got through the flaming branches, the treehouse had somehow remained untouched by the flames… for now. But behind the branches, smoke had taken a home.

With the fire, the vines wouldn’t bring him up to the treehouse. Damian quickly put his gas mask into his mouth. He would do no good if he passed out from smoke inhalation. Then he grabbed his grappling hook and shot it upward.

He perfectly landed onto the balcony.

When he walked into the treehouse, he found Y/N on the floor, unconscious.

She must not have noticed the fire and her creepers were already killed before they could get her out.

Damian rushed to her side and checked for her pulse.

Y/N was alive.

But she wouldn’t be for long if he didn’t get her out of there.

Damian picked her up in his arms and used his grappling hook to bring them back down to the ground.

With Jon’s freeze breath, there was a window in the fiery branches for Damian to escape.

As soon as he emerged, Jon rushed to them.

“Who is she?” He asked.

“A friend,” was all Damian supplied.

“Is she dead?”

“No.”

“Y/N!” A voice screamed.

Jon shot up with wide eyes to see Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn sprinting to them.

They were both covered in blood, proving that they had to fight through Joker and his men to get here. They must've been on the other end of the park with the way they were panting.

“She needs to be taken to a hospital immediately, I found her passed out from all the smoke. She needs treatment,” Damian reported to her mothers.

“No hospitals,” Ivy explained. “I have the necessary equipment here.”

Damian just nodded.

“I’ll carry her,” Jon chimed in as he lifted Y/N into his arms. “Tell me where.”

Harley took over, giving the boy directions as she ran after his flight.

It left Damian and Poison Ivy, surrounded by flames.

“You saved her life,” she whispered. “I tried to get here. But Joker–”

“I saw the attack on the news,” Damian interrupted.

Poison Ivy kneeled so she was at the same level as the boy. She slowly put her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Damian. I can never…there’s nothing…just…thank you.”

To his shock, her eyes filled with tears.

She had been scared. Terrified.

When she and Harley had arrived, she probably thought they'd been too late. And they almost were. If it hadn’t been for Damian and Jon, Y/N might be dead.

Jon landed a few yards away, trying not to interrupt.

“I must go before my father realizes what I’ve done,” Damian told her.

Ivy nodded.

--

When Jon and Damian returned to the cave, there was an awkward silence.

Jon didn’t know what to say. And he didn’t want to push Damian to explain. Clearly he was still distressed from tonight’s events.

Out of all their years of friendship, Jon had never seen Damian scared – not once.

Until tonight.

“Jon,” Damian had never sounded more serious. “You can never tell your father about this. Do you understand me? He can never know about her.”

The very idea clearly made Jon uncomfortable. Secrets were slim to none in the Kent family. Jon’s relationship with his father was built on honesty, patience, and understanding.

But Jon understood how important this was to his best friend.

So, he nodded.

Damian stepped closer. “No. I need to hear you say it.”

“I’ll never tell anyone about her, Damian. Never.”

Damian still seemed nervous.

“Pinky promise,” Jon added as he held up his pinky.

Damian blinked.

After that night, there seemed to be a significant shift.

And there seemed to be one surprising benefit from Y/N nearly dying…

Poison Ivy no longer just tolerated Damian Wayne.

She grew to care about him. And she swore she’d protect him after what he did for his daughter that night. It made her realize that Y/N befriending a hero was a good thing.

And that was the beginning of the Poison Ivy and Wayne alliance.

However, no one from the Wayne family knew about it beyond Damian.

And that was the problem.

--------–

I'm very, very excited about this serious, so please let me know if you liked it. 🍃

If you're new here: I don't do taglists and I don't have a publishing schedule.

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Childhood – Toxicology 1/3

Damian Wayne x Daughter of Poison Ivy!Reader

He was an arrogant boy, struggling as he was pulled between the legacy of being born to kill and the promise that he could change for the better. She saw the world through the eyes of her fatalistic mother, but was forbidden to make sense of it on her own. They shouldn’t work together. But Gotham made their lives align despite all of that.

Word Count: 7,000+

Damian sprinted through the streets of Gotham. It was just another average criminal, which was why his father allowed him to go after them without his supervision. But they still needed the man for questioning. And right now, he was their only lead.

Suddenly Damian came to a stop and growled.

“What is it?” Batman asked in the comms.

“He ran into Robinson Park,” Damian sighed with annoyance. “As if he has some sort of death wish. Clearly he doesn’t realize it’s 3 o’clock in the morning…”

“Or he doesn’t care,” Batman offered darkly. “Should I send backup?”

‘Backup’ as in Damian's older brothers.

It made the 8-year-old boy roll his eyes.

“No,” Damian shot back. “I can handle it.”

“That’s Poison Ivy’s territory, Robin,” Batman warned.

“I’m well aware.”

But the park had only improved since Poison Ivy had claimed it as her own. It used to be filled with junkies and creeps. Ill maintained and unloved, Pamela Isley changed the park almost overnight. She had made it her own personal oasis, and then remained completely uninvolved during the Gotham turf wars between crime bosses.

However, that didn’t mean the park was safe – especially for Robin: the sidekick of the vigilante that tossed Poison Ivy in jail more times than anyone could count.

As soon as Damian crossed the threshold, he felt like he was no longer in Gotham City.

Dare he say the park was... beautiful?

The intention during its creation was to give Gotham its very own Central Park. But the city once again proved that nothing good lasts in Gotham. It was quickly ruined by disrespectful patrons, lack of funding, and criminals that saw it as theirs for the taking.

But now Damian saw the original vision.

Somehow the sounds of Gotham almost completely disappeared. Mumbled by the thick forests. And the air didn’t smell of sewage. No, this was what fresh air smelled like. Damian had almost forgotten.

“Do you have a visual?” Batman asked.

Damian blinked and refocused. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the area around him.

The park was over 300 acres of land. But the guy Damian followed wasn’t all that fast and he could easily catch up to him.

There was a shadow disappearing into the distance.

“Yes,” Damian confirmed as he returned to a sprint.

“Stay alert. Poison Ivy doesn’t appreciate visitors,” Batman warned.

The boy didn’t bother responding. He didn’t need to be babied.

“I have to handle something. I’ll be off comms for the next 20. If you need backup, call Nightwing,” Batman grunted, clearly fighting someone.

Damian rolled his eyes again. Dick would just baby him even more.

Finally he came across an enormous willow tree. The branches were so thick with leaves that he couldn’t even see the trunk. It might be one of the biggest trees Damian had ever seen – at least in Gotham.

The slender and agile branches swayed a bit.

But then Damian realized there wasn’t even a slight breeze. Nothing should be making them move.

As he looked around, Damian realized he was being watched.

Had the criminal double backed and snuck up on him?

No, he was far too much of an imbecile to pull that off.

But Damian felt on edge and unsheathed his sword from behind his back.

As soon as the metal caught the reflection of the moon, the tree seemed to come alive.

The branches rose into the air, like a million tiny arms.

Damian swore under his breath as he looked up at the now animated tree.

“Put your sword down,” a voice called out, almost like it had travel to his ears by the wind. It wasn’t demanding, but softly suggestive.

“Who’s there?” Damian growled. “Show yourself!”

But before he could get a response, his sword was ripped out of his hands by one of the branches. Then another whacked him across his middle, knocking him to the ground. He landed on his stomach.

Damian jumped to his feet and flung a batarang to the branches that were now holding his sword hostage, 25 feet in the air above him.

His shot landed, cutting through the branches and freeing his sword. It embedded itself in the earth.

“Stop! You’re hurting them!” The same voice called out. This time it didn’t sound timid. Now it was angry.

“Come out and I won’t cut this monstrosity to pieces,” Damian warned as he quickly dove for his sword as he dodged the branches that tried to snatch him.

The tree calmed all of the sudden. Which was somehow more unsettling than when it had come alive.

Damian held his sword at the ready. Maybe this person was one of Poison Ivy’s minions. And he wasn’t going to let his guard down.

There was a slight hesitation before the branches parted like a curtain. A figure was clearly hiding just behind them. The night still protected them, holding them in shadow so Damian couldn’t make out any features.

“Who are you?” Damian shouted.

But his tone seemed to make the figure take a step back in fear.

Damian wasn’t known for his conversation skills or diplomacy.

But he suddenly heard Dick’s voice in his head. ‘Sometimes people are more scared of you than you think, Damian. Ya gotta be patient.’

Damian sighed and thought of how Dick would handle this situation.

He slowly sheathed his sword again and held out his hands to show that he didn’t have any weapons. But clearly they were hidden all around his body still.

“I won’t hurt you,” he called out.

The words sounded so unlike him.

But apparently they were enough for the figure because, after hesitating, they slowly walked out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

It was a little girl.

Her eyes wide in fear. Leaves and tiny flowers were woven into her y/h/c hair. But it looked so natural and beautiful. She was wearing a white cotton dress, simple and light. Her feet were bare. Her petiteness from being a child made it even more obvious that she was slightly shaking. Even in the night, Damian was still able to see the y/e/c of her eyes.

Was it because…Were her eyes glowing y/e/c?

“Who are you?” He asked bluntly.

She narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?” For how terrified she looked, her counter was surprisingly confident.

“I’m Robin.”

Her eyes seemed to flow brighter when she asked, “Batman’s Robin?”

“Sure.”

Then Damian took a step toward her.

But the willow tree didn’t like that one bit, and instantly erupted back to life.

Just as Damian reached for his sword again, the girl jumped forward and held up her hands.

“You’re scaring them!” She cried out. “They’re just trying to protect me.”

Damian froze. But stopped reaching for any weapon.

The girl seemed to finally relax and smiled at him. “I don’t really know why they’re so scared,” she giggled. “You’re just a boy…can’t be older than me, even.”

“Just a boy,” Damian repeated in a growl. “I was trained to be the ultimate soldier. I was born to be a master assassin.”

Instead of getting scared or even apologizing, the little girl once again giggled.

“Stop laughing,” he snarled.

She managed to contain herself and stepped forward another step.

But Damian took a step back. ‘Always keep a certain distance between you and your enemy,’ he was reminded of his training.

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” he told her.

But just as the girl was going to answer, Damian was tackled to the ground.

When he looked up at the body that was on top of him, he realized it was the thug he had tracked into the park. When the hell did he get so bold?

Damian growled as he shoved the grown man off of him, putting distance between them so he could get back to his feet.

When the man tackled him though, Damian didn’t realize how close to the girl and the tree they’d gotten.

Then everything happened so fast.

The girl’s skin erupted into a green glow, her y/e/c eyes flared the brightest tonight had seen.

Vines appeared from the ground out of nowhere and latched onto the criminal.

The man cried out in fear and fought the vines that wrapped around his limbs and torso. But they looked to be stronger than metal chains. Before Damian could help him, the ground opened up and dragged the man down, swallowing him whole. The opening in the earth closed and the vines disappeared as if they had never appeared.

“I’m sorry!” The girl shouted out in fear. “I-I-I didn’t m-mean to!” She sounded both terrified of herself and what Damian would do to her now.

“Where did he go?” Damian asked in shock.

“I-I-I don’t know.”

“Did you just kill him?”

It was a stupid question. Clearly he was either buried alive or asphyxiated by the vines.

“I don’t know,” the girl started crying. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She kept repeating it, getting more and more hysterical.

Damian didn’t know what to do. He stepped forward as if he was going to comfort her. But who was he kidding? He had never done that in his life. And he had no idea how to start now. Dick would know what to do. Hell, probably Jason even would.

Suddenly, the girl gasped. Her entire body tensed with alertness and her eyes zeroed in on something in the distance behind Damian.

The boy heard nothing but whipped around to see what she was looking at.

There was nothing.

When he turned back around, the girl was gone.

Damian looked to the tree, but there was an emptiness there now. Somehow he knew the girl wasn’t hiding in there.

“Robin,” a voice said behind him.

It was Batman.

“Where is the fugitive?”

Damian hesitated.

“I lost him,” he mumbled.

Batman narrowed his eyes. “You OK?”

Maybe it was his parenting senses going off that made him think Damian looked a little bit shaken.

“Fine,” Damian huffed.

“Come on. Let’s get back to the cave.”

“But it’s still early,” Damian shot back.

“Nightwing and Red Robin will handle the rest of the patrol. You and I are going home.” Batman’s tone left no room for argument.

Damian tried not to sigh as he followed his father.

Just before getting too far away to see it, Damian turned around and looked at the willow tree.

Who was that girl?

And why did he lie to his father for her?

Damian was never one to put his on the line for others – especially a literal stranger. His actions were out of character.

The girl’s ability were similar to Poison Ivy’s. Was she experimenting on children now?

The obvious thing to do was for Damian to explain what he saw to his father and the family would investigate together. But there was something inside telling him not to keep this little girl a secret.

Robin would handle this on his own.

Sneaking away from his family on patrol was the real challenge. Being 8 years old meant that they all felt the need to babysit him. Even Jason, who acted like he hated Damian, would keep an on the kid.

Damian saw an opening when he knew his family would be preoccupied and in their own patrol territories.

He quickly deactivated his tracking device. Well, he froze it, making him appear to be sitting still on a map. A tactic he learned almost immediately when he arrived in Gotham. He hated the idea of his father always being able to track him.

He had about 30 minutes before Bruce noticed he hadn’t moved.

Damian hurried to Robinson Park.

Since he knew exactly where he was going, he made it to the willow tree rather quickly.

“Hello,” he called out to the tree, feeling rather stupid.

The tree swayed in greeting, almost like a wave.

“It’s Robin. I just…I came to talk.”

He already felt like an idiot, since he was notorious for not talking at all.

To his surprise, the willow branches opened their curtain once again. But the girl wasn’t walking out. Instead, it was telling Damian to go in.

He hesitated before walking forward.

Was this a death wish?

But his concern vanished when he looked around.

Hidden behind the thick branches of the willow tree was the most elaborate and beautiful treehouse Damian had ever seen. It looked so natural as it snaked around the wide trunk, almost as if the house had grown with the tree and was a part of it.

There were fairy lights wrapped around it, making it look even more magical. Apparently, the branches were thick enough to completely shield any and all light from escaping beyond the leaves. So no one would ever know the treehouse was there.

“Are you here to arrest me?” A tiny voice interrupted Damian from his observations.

He looked up to see the little girl looking down at him from what appeared to be a little balcony.

She looked so scared and…ashamed.

“Should I arrest you?” He asked.

Even though he had no such authority.

She didn’t seem to know that, though.

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to,” the girl quickly defended.

“OK,” Damian said surprisingly gentle, trying to prevent her from falling into another panic attack. “Can you tell me who you are?”

She just stared at him for a moment.

Suddenly the same murderous vines from that night and appeared. They crawled up the trunk, wrapped around the girl’s waist, and then gently brought her down from the balcony so she was standing just a few feet away from Damian.

“Y/N,” She answered. “My name is Y/N.”

“Are you a prisoner here?” He quickly asked.

“Prisoner?” She laughed. “Does this look like a prison to you?”

“Guess not,” he admitted. “Did Poison Ivy do this to you?”

'This' clearly meaning her...abilities.

The mentioning of Poison Ivy seemed to wipe all amusement off the girl’s face.

She didn’t respond.

“Look, I’m not here to turn you in. I just want answers. Did she kidnap you?”

“She didn’t kidnap me.”

Damian could see that he shouldn’t push her, so he waited.

“She’s my mother.”

He couldn’t control himself as his eyes grew three sizes.

“She gave birth to you?” He sputtered out.

Y/N giggled again. “That’s usually how it works.”

“Huh,” was all Damian managed to let out.

“Would you like to come inside?” She suddenly asked softly.

It was in that moment that Damian realized one of the biggest things about the little girl.

She was lonely.

Where was Poison Ivy? Did she just let Y/N have free reign of the park and go about where she pleased?

Damian felt like he should say no. Y/N was technically the daughter of an enemy. Poison Ivy had somewhat of a moral compass and wasn’t blindly evil by any means. But she was still a criminal, and one that faced off with the Bat family more times than they could count.

But the yearning in the little girls eyes. It felt so familiar to Damian. An emotion that he refused to let himself reflect on.

“Sure,” he finally answered. “But only so I can ask all my questions.”

‘Good. Give yourself an out. Make sure she knows you’re only here on bat business. This isn’t a social call,’ Damian thought to himself.

Y/N beamed when he agreed to stay. Her y/e/c eyes glowed brighter, making Damian realize that their brightness must correlate with her emotions.

“Uhhh…Where are the stairs?” Damian asked when he realized there wasn’t so much as a ladder.

His head tilted back down, and he jumped when he found Y/N standing just inches away from him.

She smiled at him.

“Do you trust me?” Y/N whispered.

“Of course I don’t,” he snapped back.

“Well then…sorry.”

Next thing Damian knew, the vines grabbed the two children and carried them up into the air, carefully plopping them down at the balcony of the treehouse.

It made Damian uneasy being grabbed by the same things that killed that man. But he wasn’t one to show any fear.

“Would you like some tea?” Y/N asked.

She seemed so delighted to simply be able to offer it to someone for the first time.

“So you can poison me?” He countered with a glare.

Her face immediately dropped and she looked so heartbroken by the very idea.

“Why would I do that?” She mumbled quietly.

“That’s what your mother does. In fact, she probably planned to have you poison me to get back at Batman.”

“My mother sometimes does bad things, yes. But she only does them to people who deserve it.”

“Deserve it?” Damian challenged with a scoff.

“Yes,” she snapped back. “People that have hurt her or the people she loves. And people that stand in the way of her cause.”

He rolled his eyes. “And what cause is that? Crime?"

“Saving the environment, obviously.”

Damian huffed.

“Would you like some tea or not?” Y/N asked, less polite this time.

“Fine.”

“Good. I promise I won’t poison you.”

Damian looked around. The treehouse was like a tiny home. More like a studio than anything. He noted the full bed tucked into a corner. And then the tiny nook of a dinner table with three seats. There was a little kitchen with a sink, stove, and small fridge. Somehow there was running water and electricity available. There was even a small, enclosed bathroom off to the side.

“You said you had questions…” she hummed as she boiled water.

Apparently she’d already gotten over Damian’s poisoning accusation.

He hesitated, thinking of where he wanted to begin, “Who’s your father?”

“Don’t have one,” she answered with a shrug.

But Damian didn’t believe her. “How is that possible?”

“Mother is a renowned scientist. So…she figured it out.” Then she smirk, “And she would rather die than depend on a man to conceive a child.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Do you not know how babies are made?” Y/N asked with a teasing smile.

“Of course, I do!”

“Well, she used bone marrow stem cells in place of sperm to fertilize her eggs. It’s rather fascinating, actually.”

“If you say so.” Damian scratched his chin. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. Batman said Poison Ivy used to house so many orphans. But that was years ago.”

Y/N frowned.

There was silence as she poured the tea and then handed a mug to Damian before she sat down at her tiny table. She gestured to the other sit, silently telling him to join her.

“What happened to them?” He asked.

“My mother’s story is a sad one,” she said as her eyes stuck to the floor.

Damian stayed quiet.

“She had been experimented on by a terrible man. She didn’t know the full extent of her new powers. She always loved children, wanted to make a home and take care of the ones that Gotham spit out.”

Her eyes glazed over as she tried to remember a past that existed long before she was born.

“She didn’t know,” Y/N whispered.

“Didn’t know what?”

“That she was slowly poisoning them. And she couldn’t stop it – didn’t know how. Some of them–” She hesitated and swallowed, her throat clearly dry. “Died. The others… well, she sent far away. Found them homes away from Gotham.”

“I didn’t know that,” Damian admitted. “I don’t think Batman did either.”

“They were all orphans. Or came from broken homes. My mother said Gotham didn’t care about them. So...who would report them missing?"

A silence settled in the treehouse as they both processed that.

“When were you born?” Damian asked, quieter this time.

“A few years after that.”

“And you have the same… abilities as your mother.”

Y/N smiled at his observation. “My mother wanted a guarantee that she wasn’t a danger to me. It would’ve broken her heart. So she made sure I was immune – did a bunch of experiments and research.”

Then she frowned. “But she didn’t think I’d be twice as strong as her.”

“Is that why you can’t control it?” Damian asked darkly.

Y/N’s head hung as soon as he said it.

To Damian’s shock, he suddenly felt guilty for what he said.

Guess there was a first for everything.

“Y/N?” He pushed softly.

The only other time he spoke like this was when he was talking to his pets.

When Y/N finally lifted her head, she was crying. “I don’t mean to,” she whimpered. “I’ve been practicing. I don’t want to h-h-hurt p-p-people.”

Damian didn’t know what to do.

He had never even tried to comfort someone before.

But his stomach hurt. Why did it hurt?

Why did it bother him so much to see this girl cry? This girl that he hardly knew.

“You’re going to arrest me,” Y/N sniffed.

“No.” Damian surprised them both with how steady and strong his reply was. He sounded like his father.

“No?”

“Like you said, it was an accident.”

“But what…what about Batman?”

“He will never know,” Damian shrugged.

“But jail is what I deserve,” Y/N whispered.

“How old are you?”

“8.” She was the same age as him.

“Exactly. You’re a child,” it came out harsh, even though Damian didn’t mean it that way. “Furthermore, the man you killed was a criminal. He had over 15 sexual assault allegations against – amongst other things.”

"Mother says rapists should have their penises cut off," she managed to say as she sniffled.

Damian smirked.

She tried to rub the tears from her face. “How old are you?”

After everything, Damian still felt like he shouldn’t even share that.

“Same age as you.”

She smiled at that. “You seem older.”

“Thank you,” he crossed his arms arrogantly.

Y/N giggled. “I wasn’t complimenting you.”

Damian huffed at that.

“Why don’t you live with your mother?” He changed the subject, looking around at the treehouse again.

“I do,” she answered, as if it were obvious. “The park is our home. She let’s me have my own space. Mother mostly sticks to the greenhouse. I'm there a lot, too."

He slowly nodded.

Damian knew his window of freedom was quickly closing. He had probably already spent too much time here. And surely his father would notice his faulty tracking device soon.

“How can you just tell me all your secrets?” He blurted out.

Did this girl have no self preservation?

Damian had been raised by both his mother and father to never fully trust anyone. Yet this girl held no suspicion towards him. Even when she thought he was there to turn her in, she still invited him into her home.

Y/N shrugged innocently. “I figured the way to make friends is to trust them. I don’t think keeping secrets about my life is how you give trust…”

The truth was, Damian didn’t really know how to make friends. For a long time, the closest thing he had to them were his brothers. Even that was pushing the actual definition.

It took awhile until he got a real one: Jonathan Kent. Though Damian would never call him that.

Clearly, Y/N didn’t have any friends. But she seemed to have a better understanding on how to make them – at least far better than Damian ever did.

“But I didn’t tell you anything about myself,” Damian argued.

In Damian’s mind, everything was a score, a game. And this new affiliation was not an even playing field. He knew Y/N’s life story. She gave him enough information for it to be used against her. And in return, he had given her nothing.

Y/N gave him a shy smile. “Maybe you can come back another time and tell me then.”

Damian just stared at her with amazement. “I…I have to go,” he managed to stutter out.

Instead of waiting for the vines to grab him, he gracefully jumped over the railing of her treehouse balcony and landed in a controlled roll.

Y/N rushed to the balcony to look down at him, worried that he hurt himself. But quickly saw that he was perfectly fine.

“Robin!” She called out before he could disappear past the willow tree’s branches.

He turned around.

“Thank you for listening to me,” she told him shyly.

That wasn’t the last time Damian and Y/N saw each other.

They continued their secret little meetings, always at Y/N’s treehouse.

At first Damian convinced himself that he was on an undercover mission. That he’d find a point of weakness of Poison Ivy – and maybe even Harley Quinn – through Y/N.

He could prove his independence and full capabilities to his father.

But he couldn’t lie forever. Eventually, he allowed himself acknowledge that he’d grown fond of the little girl.

Little girl. She was the same age as him.

Maybe Y/N seemed younger because of her innocence and her kindness. She wasn’t stupid or naive, that’s for sure. She was just as smart as Damian. Poison Ivy clearly had prioritized her daughter’s education – even if it was through her own gaze.

Both Damian and Y/N could probably be college students in another world.

Y/N loved reading books. And she loved watching movies even more. And despite being shielded from the world, she knew an impressive amount about it.

She was a romantic, sometimes allowing herself to only see what her heart wanted to and ignoring the dark realities.

But often she would have moments of clarity, clearly coming from the teachings that her mother and Harley Quinn had made sure to ingrain in her young and impressionable mind.

Y/N hated the government. She understood that not only was it the reason for the planet slowly being destroyed, but that was just the beginning of the issues. It also oppressed so many groups of people, including women and people of most sexualities.

And she had a certain distrust towards men, as well – also compliments of her mother and Harley. Both of them had been in abusive relationships with a man, and had no hesitation on telling Y/N their tragic stories.

“But I’m a man,” Damian explained once.

Y/N giggled. “Not yet. You’re just a boy, Robin. Whether you like to admit or not.”

“So, does that mean you’ll stop seeing me when I am?” He challenged.

Her eyes teared up from the thought alone.

Damian immediately regretted even suggesting such a thing.

Y/N was sensitive and not afraid of her emotions. ‘Hiding your emotions was a disease started by the patriarchy,’ Harley once told her. Y/N cried openly and without shame. She knew it didn’t make her weak.

“We’ll always be friends. You’ll never be like them,” Y/N clarified.

“Always,” Damian repeated. “You can’t promise something like that.”

“Of course I can,” she shot back.

“And who said we were even friends,” Damian scoffed. “You don’t even know my real name.”

Y/N glared at him.

She understood that Damian had a hard time opening up. But she knew what was real and what was the walls he put around himself. But that didn’t mean it wasn't exhausting to constantly hear him in denial.

“You just haven’t told me your real name,” she tested.

Damian whipped his head in her direction.

“Damian Wayne,” she whispered, watching his reaction closely.

Damian's entire body tensed. “How long have you known?”

“Months. I’m not as stupid as you think,” she added.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Y/N shrugged. “I didn’t want you to stop seeing me. I thought it would scare you away.”

Damian was lost in thought. Should he panic? Should he leave Gotham? Was his identity out in the public? What would his father think?

“Damian,” Y/N said softly as her hand reached for his. “Your secret is safe with me. I’ll never tell anyone. Trust, remember?”

He quickly shot to his feet, making her jump.

Hearing her say his name for the first time had done something to him.

“I have to go,” he blurted out without making eye contact.

“Damian, please. Stay.”

“Stop saying it!” He shouted.

“Why?” There was nothing but sincerity and innocence in her question.

“Because. Because…”

But he didn’t really have a reason.

Because he knew he could trust her. She had never given him any reason not to.

Y/N slowly stood up now, too. “We are friends, Damian. Even if you refuse to believe it. That’s what we are. And friends trust each other.”

Then she held out her right pinky.

“What are you doing?” Damian asked.

He had never seen this gesture before.

“A pinky promise,” she answered as if it was obvious. Because it was. “When Harley does this, I know she’ll keep her promise to me – no matter what it is.”

Damian was still confused what he was supposed to do.

So Y/N gently grabbed his hand and adjusted his fingers so they matched hers. Then she grabbed his pinky with hers and pulled them closer.

“Pinky promise,” she declared.

"Sometimes, if ya really mean it, you kiss right where your thumb is," she explained with enthusiasm.

"Gross."

Y/N giggled at his reaction and did it just to mess with him.

Instead of being disgusted, he was taken aback.

And Damian finally acknowledged that Y/N really was his friend.

His best friend.

The two children thought they could live in their secret bubble forever.

In that sense, they were both naive.

To their credit, they almost made it year without being discovered. But it all came crashing down eventually.

Y/N and Damian were laying in a field late at night.

Bruce and Alfred were out of town, which meant that Damian was left under the supervision of Dick. But he’d received a called from Barbara that she was sick. Dick immediately went to her place when she refused to be taken care of at Wayne Manor.

It left Damian unsupervised. He packed a backpack and made his way to Robinson Park with the intention to have a sleepover with Y/N.

Damian tried to hide his smile as he sat on the ground. Y/N was running around him, giggling, with her hand outstretched. With her powers, she surrounded Damian with Moon flowers. They glowed in the dark and even the Gotham smog couldn’t stop the moon from making the flowers brighten the space around them.

“Do you ever get tired?” Damian pretended to be annoyed with her antics.

“Nope!” Y/N called and continued making herself dizzy with her circling.

Finally she had to catch her breath and threw herself on the ground beside him in a fit of breathy giggles.

“They like you, you know.”

“Who?” Damian asked.

“The plants. The trees. The flowers. All of them. They like when you come to visit.”

Little did she know, they liked that he made her happy when he visited.

“You can talk to them?” Damian asked with skepticism.

He always had thought she was just able to control them, that they were just an extension of her.

“Of course,” she laughed. Then she tilted her head. “It’s not like we have conversations about philosophy. But it’s like…I don’t know how to explain it. I know what they’re feeling. I know what they need.”

“Huh,” Damian sighed.

Suddenly, the surrounding flowers disappeared, burrowing into the ground as if they were hiding in fright.

Y/N looked around in a panic and Damian realized it was not her doing.

Next thing they knew, roots shot up from the ground, latching around Damian's neck, pulling him off his feet to hang and strangle.

Y/N jumped to her feet and turned to find her mother walking towards them.

“I knew you’d been keeping secrets from me,” Poison Ivy growled to her daughter, “But I never expected this.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Damian managed to choke out.

Poison Ivy brought him slightly down, closer to her face. “Well, you should be.”

“Mother! Please!” Y/N begged. “Let him go! He’s my friend!”

“You choose him – him – over your family!?” Poison Ivy yelled.

“I’m not choosing anyone over anyone!” She cried. “He’s my friend. My only friend. Please, mother, please don’t hurt him.”

Poison Ivy had never seen her daughter react in such a way. Suddenly she remembered how Y/N was so used to hide in the trees, watching kids playing in the park. Y/N had always been cautious of the outside world, scared she might have an episode or accidentally entrance someone with her powers – or worse, poison them to death.

So much of Y/N childhood was filled with isolation and fear.

And her mother suddenly had a depression realization: her daughter was lonely.

Poison Ivy’s anger was traded for sadness.

Slowly, she lowered Damian to the ground.

He fell to his knees and was overcome with a coughing fit.

Y/N rushed to his side and comforted him.

“I’m fine,” he told her, feeling how stressed she was for him.

Then Poison Ivy’s feet walked into his line of vision.

Damian looked up to see her towering over them.

“Listen to me and listen to me carefully,” she hissed. “If you do anything to hurt her – anything – I will end you.”

Damian wanted to say he would never do such a thing. But he didn’t want to validate such a threat with an response.

“I know who you are now,” Poison Ivy added as she looked him up and down. “And I’m not above using it against you if you should do anything to my daughter.”

“He won’t,” Y/N spoke for him as she glared at her mother.

She now shifted her glare to her daughter. “And you…we’re going to have a long discussion about keeping secrets from us and fraternizing with the enemy.”

Y/N was smart enough to at least look guilty.

Her attention shifted back to Damian. “I think it’s time for you to go home.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

“I’ll walk him out,” Y/N said gently.

Her mother hesitated before nodding.

As Y/N escorted Damian to the edge of the park, a silence had enveloped them.

They didn’t speak until Damian reached his hidden opening.

“Please come back,” Y/N almost whimpered, frightened by the idea that her mother might’ve scared off the only friend she'd ever had.

“I meant it when I said I wasn’t afraid of her,” Damian promised.

Y/N pulled him into a tight hug, holding on for dear life as if it was their final goodbye.

“I’m not leaving you,” Damian whispered into her hair.

Slowly, he was getting better at comforting others. Well, he was getting better at comforting Y/N. He didn’t really care much for trying with anyone else.

Finally she allowed him to pull away from her embrace.

“Believe me,” Damian smirked. “It would’ve been much worse if my father found out.”

“Well, I hope we never have to worry about that,” Y/N sighed.

“Will your mother really allow us to be friends?”

“I know you only see my mother as just another criminal of Gotham,” she muttered. “But she is still my mother. And she only wants me to be happy and safe. And you make me happy, Damian. She would never take that away from me.”

“And she’ll keep our secret?”

“Well…” Y/N cringed. “Yes. But that means telling Harley, too.”

“Oh, great,” Damian moaned.

“But they are overprotective of me. And they’ll know telling your secret is more dangerous to me than anything else.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “I promise.”

Damian nodded, believing her.

Even though all his training was screaming at him that this was the worst possible outcome.

He shook his head. “Hey, I was planning on giving you this tonight.”

Then he pulled out a cellphone and handed it to her.

“I know you don’t like technology,” Damian shrugged. “But this way we can keep in touch. It’s completely untraceable, and all of the calls and messages will be encrypted.”

Y/N seemed shocked at first, and a beaming smile slowly formed on her lips.

She tackled him into another hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is!” She argued.

And by the time Damian returned to Wayne Manor, he'd already received a message from Y/N, asking him to tell her when he got home safely.

Y/N hadn’t been lying about her mother and Harley keeping her friendship a secret and keeping Damian’s identity a secret.

It made the children’s friendship easier. Who knew it was better to only keep it a secret from one family instead of two? And who would've thought the family to be the first to accept it would be the villainous one?

But Poison Ivy made it clear she still hated Damian. But at least she tolerated him.

Now that the two kids had phones to communicate, they grew even closer.

Everyday, Y/N would send Damian videos of flowers she’d magically grown or her trees waving hello.

In return, Damian would send photos of his pets. Usually it was Titus playing in the yard or Alfred the cat sleeping in his lap.

Y/N fell in love with all of Damian's pets and constantly begged him to bring them on his next visit.

Harley thought the two of them were adorable, but Poison Ivy would roll her eyes and scoff whenever her girlfriend made that known.

Y/N Isley and Damian Wayne's friendship continued for years.

Damian never told a soul about her.

And Y/N kept Damian’s identity close to her heart.

3 YEARS LATER

“This is ridiculous!” Damian growled as he paced in the cave.

“Our dads said it was pretty dangerous,” Jon offered with a shrug.

“You might as well be a pet for how compliant you are,” Damian snapped back. “I’ve trained my whole life to be capable enough to handle missions like this. We could be helping them right now. But they treat us like we’re children!"

“We are children,” Jon deadpanned.

“We’re 11 years old.”

Jon rolled his eyes.

Damian was going to continue his tangent, but something on the cave’s monitors caught his attention. He shot forward to get a better look.

There was a fire – a huge one – in Robinson Park. Then he zoomed in on the live feed of the news broadcast that was reporting it.

“The Joker,” Damian growled.

“The Joker? But that’s not who our dads are dealing with.”

“This is Gotham, Kent. The Joker is probably using that as a distraction to make a move on Poison Ivy.”

“Poison Ivy? What beef does he have with Poison Ivy?”

“Harley Quinn,” was all Damian had time to explain.

He whipped around and tightly gripped Jon’s shoulders, staring into his eyes.

“Jon, I need your help.”

“Okkkkk,” he said slowly. “I’m not gonna like this, am I?”

“I need you to fly me to Robinson Park.”

“Dami, I don’t know. Dad’s told me about her before. She was strong enough to hypnotize and control him! He almost killed your dad because of it!”

“Do you trust me?” Damian challenged.

“I-I-I…”

“Do you or not?” Damian didn’t have time for this.

Jon glared. “Yes.”

“So then take me there.”

Jon had never seen Damian desperate before – or even stressed.

The boy didn’t fully understand what was going on. But from Damian’s reaction, he could tell it was important.

“Fine. Hold on, OK?” Jon asked before wrapping Damian’s arms around his back.

They shot out of the cave.

Damian managed to scream directions to Jon, but the boy already knew where the fire was from his super hearing.

Jon managed to land right in front of the Y/N’s willow tree.

Damian was horrified when it was completely engulfed in flames.

“No,” he gasped. “No, no, no.”

He jolted into a sprint.

“Damian, no!” Jon tried to cry out.

But he ignored him.

“Y/N!” Damian screamed at the top of his lungs.

In a panic, Jon started blowing out the fire with his freeze breath. He knew there was no stopping Damian, so all he could do was try and help – even though he didn’t really know what he was helping with.

Why was he worried about a single tree?

The willow tree should’ve been protecting her. It should’ve been keeping her safe. But the branches hung limp. The fire had already killed it.

Damian’s Robin suit barely protected him from the heat of the fire.

“Y/N!” He screamed again.

Once he got through the flaming branches, the treehouse had somehow remained untouched by the flames… for now. But behind the branches, smoke had taken a home.

With the fire, the vines wouldn’t bring him up to the treehouse. Damian quickly put his gas mask into his mouth. He would do no good if he passed out from smoke inhalation. Then he grabbed his grappling hook and shot it upward.

He perfectly landed onto the balcony.

When he walked into the treehouse, he found Y/N on the floor, unconscious.

She must not have noticed the fire and her creepers were already killed before they could get her out.

Damian rushed to her side and checked for her pulse.

Y/N was alive.

But she wouldn’t be for long if he didn’t get her out of there.

Damian picked her up in his arms and used his grappling hook to bring them back down to the ground.

With Jon’s freeze breath, there was a window in the fiery branches for Damian to escape.

As soon as he emerged, Jon rushed to them.

“Who is she?” He asked.

“A friend,” was all Damian supplied.

“Is she dead?”

“No.”

“Y/N!” A voice screamed.

Jon shot up with wide eyes to see Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn sprinting to them.

They were both covered in blood, proving that they had to fight through Joker and his men to get here. They must've been on the other end of the park with the way they were panting.

“She needs to be taken to a hospital immediately, I found her passed out from all the smoke. She needs treatment,” Damian reported to her mothers.

“No hospitals,” Ivy explained. “I have the necessary equipment here.”

Damian just nodded.

“I’ll carry her,” Jon chimed in as he lifted Y/N into his arms. “Tell me where.”

Harley took over, giving the boy directions as she ran after his flight.

It left Damian and Poison Ivy, surrounded by flames.

“You saved her life,” she whispered. “I tried to get here. But Joker–”

“I saw the attack on the news,” Damian interrupted.

Poison Ivy kneeled so she was at the same level as the boy. She slowly put her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Damian. I can never…there’s nothing…just…thank you.”

To his shock, her eyes filled with tears.

She had been scared. Terrified.

When she and Harley had arrived, she probably thought they'd been too late. And they almost were. If it hadn’t been for Damian and Jon, Y/N might be dead.

Jon landed a few yards away, trying not to interrupt.

“I must go before my father realizes what I’ve done,” Damian told her.

Ivy nodded.

--

When Jon and Damian returned to the cave, there was an awkward silence.

Jon didn’t know what to say. And he didn’t want to push Damian to explain. Clearly he was still distressed from tonight’s events.

Out of all their years of friendship, Jon had never seen Damian scared – not once.

Until tonight.

“Jon,” Damian had never sounded more serious. “You can never tell your father about this. Do you understand me? He can never know about her.”

The very idea clearly made Jon uncomfortable. Secrets were slim to none in the Kent family. Jon’s relationship with his father was built on honesty, patience, and understanding.

But Jon understood how important this was to his best friend.

So, he nodded.

Damian stepped closer. “No. I need to hear you say it.”

“I’ll never tell anyone about her, Damian. Never.”

Damian still seemed nervous.

“Pinky promise,” Jon added as he held up his pinky.

Damian blinked.

After that night, there seemed to be a significant shift.

And there seemed to be one surprising benefit from Y/N nearly dying…

Poison Ivy no longer just tolerated Damian Wayne.

She grew to care about him. And she swore she’d protect him after what he did for his daughter that night. It made her realize that Y/N befriending a hero was a good thing.

And that was the beginning of the Poison Ivy and Wayne alliance.

However, no one from the Wayne family knew about it beyond Damian.

And that was the problem.

--------–

I'm very, very excited about this serious, so please let me know if you liked it. 🍃

If you're new here: I don't do taglists and I don't have a publishing schedule.

Follow the series masterlist.

Toy Box

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader (Roommate AU)

Rating: Explicit (18+ minors do not interact)

Warnings: Sex toys mentioned, Voyeurism, masturbation, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), overstimulation,

Word Count: 16.5k

a/n: Here it is! Roommate Baku! The fic based on this post here! I had so much fun writing this. Like... so much fun. I really really hope y'all enjoy it. Sorry in advance for how long it is I just uhhh got carried away lol. Very very special thanks to @hoe-doroki for being constantly supportive and super patient while I wrote this because it’s been a wip for MONTHS. Love you baby I hope you enjoy it. Anywhoo ENJOY

You are mortified, if that is even the correct word to use. You could open a thesaurus, find all other words that mean the same thing, smash them all together to make one giant word that meant the same thing and you still wouldn’t be able to come up with a better word for how you’re feeling looking at the package in the middle of the table.

In stark contrast to your horror and humiliation, your roommate is across the room laughing his annoying ass off as tears form in the corner of his eyes and he chokes—good, let him—on his spit. His words play back in your mind over and over, searing themselves into your brain with every repeated phrase.

“Well shit, if you wanted to be fucked by a huge dick, all you had to do was ask.”

Your roommate, rising pro hero Katsuki Bakugo, had just walked in on you seeing the very special package—also known as an 8 inch dildo you planned to have a very nice evening with, at least before now-—he’d left for you on the table. This man hasn’t uttered more than 20 words to you since the two of you moved in together about 6 months ago—which you appreciated in all honesty—and he chooses now of all times to make a crude ass joke? When you’re wallowing in your disgrace?

“Shut the fuck up. Not another word, Bakugo, or I swear-”

“What, you’ll beat me with the big black dick on the table?”

He laughs again, beating his chest as he hacks up a lung from laughing so hard. You momentarily contemplate jumping on him and kicking his ass. You won’t win,obviously, but with the surprise, you’ll at least be able to get a few jabs in. Instead, you snatch the dildo off the table, stuff it in your jacket and run to your room. You slam the door shut before you hear him say, “Hey, wait!” through his laughing fit.

You throw the dildo on your bed and crouch down in front of the door, holding your cheeks that feel like they’re on fire. You try to take a deep breath, rationalize the situation—there are plenty of embarrassing things that could’ve happened. I mean the two of you are roommates. He’s seen you in short shorts and messy bed hair before and that never bothered you.

Fact is, nothing really bothered you with him. It’s why you two worked so well as roommates. He left you alone, you left him alone. You had different friend groups, different hobbies, different lives. He was a pro hero and you were...a walking pit of despair with a shit but nice paying office job where you excelled at what you did but, it was not at all what you wanted to do with your life.

The perfect dynamic.

The only conversations you had were about the apartment and the occasional “it’s supposed to rain today, ugh” and “I’ll be gone for the weekend” over the very rare breakfast together.

Speaking of, he was supposed to be gone for the weekend and you were supposed to have the apartment to yourself.

In fact, that morning he muttered as you sat sipping your coffee, something about going to some training camp for the weekend with a bunch of the other up-and-coming pros he’d graduated with. You hadn’t listened much to why he wasn’t going to be home, but your ears did perk up when you realized you’d have the house to yourself. It coincided perfectly with the fact that the dildo your best friend texted you was supposed to arrive later that afternoon.

Ok, so you knew it was a possibility that Bakugo might see the package, but you were assured, had checked multiple times, that the packaging would be discreet. Clearly, you were mistaken about how discreet it would be. It actually couldn’t have been more discreet if it’d had “I’m a lonely single woman who needs some good dick so I bought a 8 inch dildo online” sign plastered to the package. You shake your head, trying to clear your mind of the incident and instead focus on why Bakugo was even here in the first place.

You can hear him shuffling around the apartment behind your bedroom door. There are clinking pans and the sound of the TV going, which definitely doesn’t sound like a “I’ll be gone this weekend” thing to do. Maybe he’s waiting on a cab, you think to yourself.

You stand up and stretch, grabbing your phone to scroll through your social media and also text your best friend about what happened. Maybe, she will laugh about it and make you feel just a little bit better, maybe it’ll just be swept under the rug once the two of you laugh about it and it’s over and done when Bakugo leaves.

“Right, when he leaves… I'll just pretend like it never happened and enjoy the rest of my weekend,” you say plopping down on your bed. You scroll through social media until you fall asleep, opting to take a stress nap.

When you awaken hours later, Bakugo is still there. The sun has set, your room is dark and you can still hear the TV playing. You’re groggy and a little fuzzy of what’s going on, but the incident is still fresh in your mind. Your stomach growls and you make the very brave decision to go out and make yourself dinner. You’ll just ignore him if he says anything about it—you’re good at that. Besides you two aren’t friends. You aren’t obligated to speak to him. So you change out of the work clothes you fell asleep in, pull on your comfy sweats and favorite band t-shirt, and place your hand on the doorknob. You take a deep breath before opening it and walking out into the hall.

The kitchen smells like some spicy ramen Bakugo made which doesn’t smell bad considering he’s a pretty good cook. He's sitting on the couch scrolling through social media on his phone. He’s wearing loungewear, which suspiciously looks like “I’m staying in” clothes rather than “I’m waiting on my cab” clothes. He doesn’t look in your direction when you enter the kitchen and you’re actually kind of grateful.

You focus on preparing dinner, pulling out the pots and pans you need. You have soup boiling and you’re zoned out watching the steam billow up from the pot when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You jump and spin around, almost knocking the pan off the stove.

“Geez, don’t you ever make noise when you walk!” you say to him as you put a hand over your heart.

“Ain’t my fault you’re an airhead and don’t pay attention to your surroundings,” he says, shrugging. You glare at him before spinning back around to resume cooking. He huffs and clears his throat, trying to get your attention without touching you. When you don’t acknowledge him, he barks at you, “I’m assuming with how fucking dense you are, you haven’t heard about the stay at home order.”

You’re about to curse him out for calling you dense when you comprehend the rest of his sentence.

“The what?”

“Quarantine, because of the pandemic. The entire city is going on lockdown. No one is allowed to leave their homes except for emergencies. Companies are having employees work from home if possible, and they’re setting up a delivery service for groceries and supplies if needed. You should pay attention to the damn news one in a while.” He scolds you as he holds his phone up to your face for you to read the headline declaring the stay at home order.

So, that’s why he’s still here. You snatch the phone from his grip and scroll through the article, reading and confirming everything he just said. When you finish, you stare up at him as he watches you with that same dumb ass smirk on his face. It’s the “I told you so” face. You try to ignore it and give the phone back to him, asking, “For how long?”

He grunts at you, “Two weeks.”

You almost faint. Two weeks, stuck in the apartment with Bakugo who just saw the big-ass dildo you just bought and won’t be able to use for two weeks now, thanks to the pandemic. You’ve barely spent more than an hour with Bakugo and now you have to spend almost every minute of every day with him? You don’t know much about him, but from what you’ve seen today, he’s an asshole and annoying, so surely these two weeks are going to be a huge pain.

You take a deep breath before turning back to turn off the stove and transfer your soup to a bowl. “Thanks for telling me,” you say offhandedly, trying to stay casual and hiding the annoyance in your tone. When you don’t hear him move and you’re about to carry your bowl of soup to your room, you stop. He’s staring at you with a pensive frown, like he’s just realized something and it’s on the tip of his tongue.

“What?”

He pauses for a moment, visibly contemplating his next words before ultimately deciding not to say what he wanted. “Tsk, nothing. I’m going to bed,” he grumbles, turning on his heel and stalking to his bedroom door. You roll your eyes as you hear him curse to himself before slamming the door shut.

The next few days stuck indoors with Bakugo are just as you expected. Hell. He is by far the most annoying, stubborn, brash man you’ve ever met and you work with self-proclaimed genius businessmen for a living. He wakes up supremely early to do workouts loudly in the living room, he has no respect for when you’re on conference calls with your team throughout the day, cursing and complaining as he yells on the phone about the large amounts of paperwork he has to complete to his fellow pro heroes, and he doesn’t even have the decency to make two of whatever he’s making for lunch to share with you. Not that you’d eat it anyway, but still the thought counts.

You’ve been in so many arguments the last three days, it almost feels like you’re a married couple who’s on their last straw but are forced to stay together because of the kids.

He’s too loud, you’re too messy:

“Could you please keep it down, I’m on a conference call!”

“Oi, would it kill you to wash your fucking dishes after you use them?”

He wants to keep the TV on the news channels to monitor the rising virus cases, but you want to relax and watch Disney movies after a long and stressful day of work:

“You should want to be informed about what’s going on around us, idiot!”

“I think I’ve had a stressful enough day straining to hear my coworkers on the phone because you don’t know how to use your inside voice!”

He doesn’t let you know when he’s putting in an order for groceries and complains that you have way too much junk food in the apartment and you call him a food snob. The two of you are at each other’s throat constantly and you’re grasping at straws trying to find a silver lining for this situation.

It’s Thursday and the hectic schedule is calming down now that your coworkers are slowly getting used to working from home. You’ve set your workspace up in the living room at the tiny desk by the window. There are less meetings and you’re able to finish a lot of your projects fairly quickly, which keeps your days open enough to do side activities at home. You’ve put on the finishing touches for the huge project you’ve been working on that absolutely would have benefited from having all of your coworkers in the same room together.

You’re about to join a zoom call with your boss to finalize all the plans and move forward with rolling out the project when you calmly and very politely ask Bakugo if he can please keep it down for at least ten minutes while you’re on this call. He thankfully obliges, spitting a “whatever” back to you as he throws his shirt over his shoulder and walks to his bedroom.

You try not to pay attention to his back muscles, the way the sweat drips down them slowly and how he’s actually glowing from the morning sun beaming through the windows. You try, really really try, not to think about how, despite being covered in scars and old injuries, his skin still looks soft as he reaches out to turn the doorknob to his bedroom.

No.

No, you absolutely refuse to start looking at your roommate as if he’s a potential love interest. What is this? A sappy romcom? You’re not that horny, the quarantine is only for two weeks and you’ve lasted way longer than that without giving in to seductive thoughts.You turn away from his retreating figure, giving your head a quick shake as you type in your login information to ready yourself for the conference call.

Katsuki Bakugo is not hot. He is not attractive. He is just your roommate and you will get through these two weeks and everything will go back to normal.

Right?

This is not going as planned and in retrospect it’s stupid. Katsuki has made up his mind. Crushes, dumb lovey dovey feelings like this are stupid, a waste of time and absolutely unbearable. Not that you’d ever know he had a crush—or whatever he wants to refer to it as—but Kirishima and Mina won’t ever shut the fuck up about it so it’s only a matter of time before they blab about it and you hear one day. This quarantine is probably the best and worst scenario he could be in.

“It’s the perfect chance to sweep her off her feet!” Mina says sliding into the booth the afternoon they found out about the canceled training camp.

Katsuki rolls his eyes as he and Kirishima scooch into the large wrapped booth to make room for her.

“I don’t sweep people off their feet. This ain’t a damn romance movie. Plus, I don’t have any interest in a relationship, especially not with a roommate,” Katsuki says.

He can’t deny the attraction he feels for you, especially not to these idiots. He’d accidentally let those feelings slip one night when Denki was complaining about him not giving you his number. Ever observant Kirishima had asked why and the explosive blonde had conveyed his true feelings along with a string of curses and a face as red and flushed as a tomato.

Yeah, you’re not bad to look at. You’re quiet and not annoying and the fact that you’ve been in the apartment for six months and haven’t left complaining about Katsuki’s attitude is a huge plus. It’s true he doesn’t know much about you and Mina is right in a sense. This would be the perfect time to learn more about you.

He comes home that afternoon to learn way more about you than he thought. What better way to let your roommate know you think she’s fucking hot than by finding her 8 inch dildo in the mail. He won’t lie, it’s hot to think about, you in your room, just on the other side of his wall, holding in your moans so you wouldn’t wake him as you take—yeah, holy shit, 8 inches—into your needy warm–

No. No, Katsuki refuses. He’s not like pussy obsessed Kaminari or pussy whipped Kirishima. He will get through this quarantine without constantly drooling over you and when things go back to normal, he’ll spend more time out of the apartment and maybe clear his head of the ridiculous crush. People grow out of crushes all the time; he grew out of the high school crush he had on Mirko, surely he can grow out of this one.

Teasing you about the package when you’d finally gotten home from work hadn’t helped. You looked cute, blushing and scrambling to hide it and then threatening him after he’d spent a full ten minutes laughing at you. Four days into quarantine and Katsuki has definitely figured out his favorite pastime is riling you up. The two of you function so contrastingly differently it makes him grind his teeth in rage and the only way he’s able to feel better is watching you get just as angry and bothered. It’s cute and frankly he doesn’t have anything better to do other than the endless paperwork he has to work on from Endeavor’s agency, where he’s a sidekick.

It is also a welcome distraction away from the way you prance around the apartment in skimpy, tight clothes for your morning yoga. Katsuki is out of the apartment before you or just leaving as you wake up on a normal day, so he’s not aware of your morning routine. You wake up every morning, have a cup of coffee, then move to the living room to do an hour of yoga before getting in the shower. It would be fine—no it wouldn’t— if you weren’t so flexible and bendy and your ass didn’t sit propped up perfectly while you were upward dog or whatever. The shorts cup beneath your ass, the sports bra you wear pushes your tits up and every pose, every single pose, Katsuki has trouble not fantasizing about him tangled up with you.

And when you’re done and covered in a little sheen of sweat, tendrils of your hair sticking to your neck, you glow in the morning sun. As if he wasn’t already trying not to look in your direction. To get back at you, he works out in the living room around lunch time, shirtless. Katsuki knows he’s attractive and he’s seen you take second glances out of the corner of your eye when you think he’s not paying attention and everytime it inflates his already huge ego. So working out in the living room, grunting loudly as he lifts dumbbells and does push ups so his back muscles—which he’s noticed are what you seem to really enjoy, based on your lingering looks as he walks away—are defined.

This afternoon, you’ve stopped him in the middle of the workout to ask for ten minutes of quiet while you’re on an important call. Most of your interactions are full of snarky snide comments and rolled eyes, but he can tell you’re being really sincere when you ask him this time. Your eyes are wide, your eyebrows are furrowed and your hand is at your side playing with a loose thread on your pants nervously. This is important to you and Katsuki again has to swallow the rising dumb gushy feeling he gets when he realises it. He brushes past you as you stand in front of him, batting your lashes and speaking in a soft shaky voice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll go to my room,” he responds as he walks off.

He can feel your stare burning into his back as he walks off and right before he closes the door to his bedroom he hears you mutter to yourself, “No, stop that.”

He smirks a bit to himself before shutting the door. Nice to know you both are in the same boat.

It’s finally Friday, which means the weekend will be here and you can relax and not think about work. It also means you’ll have more time spent with Bakugo without the excuse of work to stop you from carrying on a conversation with him. You’re not sure why you have butterflies in your stomach or why you’re not dreading this fact considering he’s been a complete asshole the entire week, but the idea of what he does during the weekend when he’s not out with his hero friends or working extra hours at the agency sparks your curiosity.

Work is easy today, most of your coworkers have taken off to start the weekend early and it seems like a pretty chill today. Even Bakugo seems quieter today. He’s sitting on the couch, earbuds jammed into his ears as he scrolls and texts someone furiously.You had a plan to make your favorite dinner tonight, spaghetti and meatballs, have a glass of wine, and watch Disney movies all night to unwind from the stressful week. You’ve been contemplating whether you want to invite him to join you or if he’ll just make fun of you and spend the whole weeknd closed up in his room.

You glance over at him as you continue typing your email. His scarlet eyes are still glued to his phone and he’s still texting quickly. He’s wearing his signature angry scowl but he also looks extremely bothered by something. For the first time since Quarantine started you feel something other than annoyance toward your roommate. You stop typing and turn to him now, eyes and voice wary.

“Hey Bakugo?”

“What I’m not even saying anything,” he growls without looking up. You smile for a second, amused by the fact that he knew you’d ask him to keep it down, but then you grow smug as you ask your next question.

“Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to have dinner and watch a movie with me tonight,” you say cheekily as you bask in the confusion on his face as he finally looks up from his phone to peer at you.

“What?”

You clear your throat before repeating yourself, “I said do you wanna have dinner and watch a movie with me tonight? Come on, it’s the weekend, you got through all your paperwork, I heard you boasting about it to your friend on the phone the other day and you have nowhere else to go thanks to quarantine so why not?” you say, giving him a half smile.

He doesn’t respond for a long time, visibly contemplating his decision and you’re almost about to regret asking when he looks back up to you, crimson eyes glimmering.

“What movie?” He waits for your answer as you sheepishly look away and you know he’s judging you silently.

“A Disney movie, but I haven’t decided on which one, yet,” you mutter to yourself. He rolls his eyes and looks back down to his phone.

“Pass,” he says lazily and you puff up your cheeks.

“Oh come on! What is it with you and not wanting to accept the magical wonder that is Disney into your life,” you say throwing your arms up in the air. He chuckles as he watches you get riled up.

“It’s unrealistic. Who the fuck goes around singing what they’re thinking?” he retorts, raising an eyebrow and smirking teasingly at you.

“Ok, you have a point but come ON. Not ALL of the Disney movies have singing!”

“Oh really? Name one.”

He’s got you. You didn’t think before you spoke and now you’re rapidly filtering through every Disney movie checking to see which ones have no singing until it hits you. You’re also positive it’s one he will actually enjoy.

“Atlantis. It’s settled. I’m showing you Atlantis tonight and you’re going to sit and reserve judgement until the end,” you say, shutting your laptop and standing.

You place your hands on your hips and cock it to the side, waiting for his affirmation. You raise an eyebrow and purse your lips when he continues to stare up at you with the “You’ve got to be kidding me face.” When he finally realizes that you’re too stubborn to let it go, he sighs deeply, gets up from the couch to stand in front of you, and looks down into your eyes. He moves closer to you, so close you can smell his minty breath on your face.

“Fine,” he breathes and you blink in confusion as his soft tone catches you off guard. He smirks and you take a shaky step back away from him to move from his weird intoxicating aroma. You shake your head to clear your mind and smile in victory at him.

“Perfect. But first, we cook!” you say, skipping to the kitchen.

Bakugo follows behind you, watching as you pull out the ingredients for spaghetti and set them on the counter. His eyes widen and he scowls deeply when you pull two bottles of wine out.

“I ain’t drinking that bougie shit,” he says, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

You bend down, your butt poking out of the fridge to grab the plump tomatoes and fresh garlic and when you pop back up and close the fridge with your hip you quip, “Good it’s not for you to drink.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “You’re gonna go through two bottles of wine in one night? You’re a fucking alcoholic.”

“And you’re a tactless jackass. We’ve got the makings of a shitty sitcom,” you say back, not even looking in his direction as you gather the pots and pans needed for dinner. It surprises you to hear him laugh, it explodes from him like he was desperately trying to keep it in. You look over your shoulder and smile at him and for a moment it feels like the two of you could actually be friends.

“One bottle is to cook with, the other is to drink,” you say pointing to each one.

You fill a pot with water and turn on the stove so it can start boiling as Katsuki leans a shoulder against the fridge watching you. “What the hell are you making anyway?”

You turn to look excitedly at him and you can swear you see him shift his eyes away quickly and hold in an embarrassed smile. “Spaghetti and meatballs!” you pronounce proudly.

“Ew.”

“God you really do ruin everything with every sentence that comes out of your mouth, huh? You sure that’s not your quirk?” you sigh, turning back toward the stove to prep the oven.

You can hear him hesitate and for a second you think you might have hurt his feelings and start to panic. But then you hear him scoff again behind you and you’re reassured.

“Spaghetti and meatballs is fucking gross because there’s never a correct ratio of pasta to sauce to meat,” he fusses.

“Yeah that’s if you don’t measure and you’re an amateur. Look I’ve spent years perfecting this recipe ok? And it is—and I’m not being cocky—the best spaghetti and meatballs I’ve ever had in my life,” you say as you wash the veggies and start to chop them.

There’s a small breeze next to your face and you turn to see him standing and watching you closely. You almost jump out of your skin again but the warmth radiating from his body soothes you. He’s looking over your shoulder at the hand holding the knife and gives you a disapproving look.

“You're chopping them wrong,” he says in a softer tone that you’re not used to. It still has the annoying edge to it, but it’s almost as if he’s whispering tenderly to you, like he doesn’t want to scare you. You can’t explain the thudding in your chest as he reaches out, his huge hands covering the one holding the knife.

“W...what?” He stands behind you now, arms wrapped around you, chest flush with your back and breath hot and tickling your neck. He’s holding your hand with the knife and reaching around to grab one of the tomatoes.

“That’s not how you dice vegetables, idiot. Do it like this.” He moves you to chop the tomato, hands engulfing yours as the knife slides through it with ease. In half the amount of time it took you to chop a tomato, he’s chopped four. When his breath on your neck finally starts to raise goosebumps on your skin and you’ve shoved the impulse to push your ass back on him, you pull away from him quickly stuttering about having to change into comfy clothes before starting on the sauce.

“Why don’t you just… chop the vegetables… and I’ll be back in a bit,” you stutter backing up down the hallway to your room. You close the door quickly, your hand on your chest as you stand there wondering what the hell that was.

Your perfume still lingers after you’ve left the room, kind of like your presence is Katsuki’s mind.

Wait, what the fuck? That was so corny. Even if it is a little true. Your perfume does smell nice, and it does invade all of his senses and makes him act differently than he usually does. Of course it does. Not like he would’ve pulled that chopping stunt if he were in a clearer mindset. He blows out a frustrated breath growling, “This is so fucking stupid.”

He watches the bubbles in the boiling water burst as steam billows up from the pot. How do Kirishima and the others do it? No wonder they’re never focused at their agencies. Too busy thinking about thick thighs and soft skin.

Idiots.

Although…he isn’t at the agency now. And your skin felt so soft and smooth under his calloused fingers. Your hair smelled sweet and from the angle he was standing at, he could see a tiny peek of your cleavage. He was very lucky you pulled away when you did. The growing tent in his pants would’ve definitely been hard to talk himself out of.

He shakes his head, blonde spikes swaying as he knocks a fist against his temples. ”Get it the fuck together moron,” he sneers to himself. He has a goal in mind, one he promised himself he wouldn’t give up on and that nothing would stand in his way. He will be Number One.

He repeats it over and over in his mind as he continues to chop the vegetables until you step back into the kitchen, shoulders squared with a look of determination. You’re wearing a red and black oversized t-shirt that hangs to your knees and what he hopes are shorts underneath and not just your panties.

“Ok, let’s get cooking!” you say in a preppy too excited tone. He rolls his eyes as you skip past him and add the noodles to the boiling water.

Katsuki isn’t aware of how long it takes to prepare this gross meal of yours but he is very intrigued by each step and how thorough you are in carrying it out. You measure everything precisely, sprinkle seasonings, and meticulously knead the balls of meat into perfect little spheres. Katsuki is even more impressed that you complete all these steps while causally keeping conversation with him.

“So what do you usually do on Friday nights when the world isn’t in pandemic mode?” you ask, squishing your hands into the ground beef in the bowl.

Katsuki lets out a loud puff of annoyed energy, “Usually I work late at the agency. Take time to fill out reports and crap. You know all the boring stuff I’d have a sidekick do once I’m number one.”

“Right right, you’re a sidekick at Endeavor's agency, yeah? With that one really handsome hero all the girls go nuts over. Shoto. Endeavor’s son, right?” you say not looking up and sticking your tongue out in concentration as you crack an egg into the mixture.

Katsuki silently seethes at you mentioning Shoto. He’s definitely past feeling inferior to Shoto. He’d even consider him a good...acquaintance, but hearing you talk about him like that…it makes his eyes squint and heat rise on the back of his neck. You notice his silence and look up at him with concern.

“Did I get it wrong? I thought you were a sidekick for the current number one hero,” you question.

Katsuki takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, “Yeah I am. And it sucks. I wanna open my own agency already but the old man says I ain’t ready yet.”

“Well you aren’t,” you say matter of factly as you place the finished meatballs in a skillet to sear them.

“Hah?”

He looks at you angrily and you meet his eye, unbothered with the way he’s shaking and trying not to explode on you. ”Bakugo, you live in a 900 sqft apartment with a roommate you split the rent with and you have a temper that's more ignitable than alcohol… speaking of,” you say, turning to grab the bottle you’ve labeled as the drinking wine and take a swig. He watches you gulp it down with narrowed eyes.

“My point is, you’ve still got a ways to go. It’s not easy opening your own agency and you’ve still got shit to learn,” you say, wiping your mouth.

He pouts, looking at the ground as he listens to you read the hell out of him in the middle of your shared kitchen. “Tsk, I know alright? I know I’m not the most popular hero like that pretty boy Shoto and I’m not a smiley idiot like Deku, but I get the job done. That’s what matters,” he says, not looking at you.

He can’t believe he’s talking about this so openly with you. It’s so easy and he doesn’t feel like he has to hold back when venting about his frustrations. You actually listen to him, but you don’t show him pity like he’s weak. You tell the truth, even if it’s not what he wants to hear—unfortunately. He respects it, hell he likes it, a lot, and it makes talking about other things on his mind —no not the dumb ass crush—seem more comfortable.

You pick up on the frustration in his voice and your turn to look at him once the meatballs are cooked to perfection. “You’re not a bad hero, Bakugo. You just need to show people a different side of you. Ya know, let people know you’re not just an angry jerk. You’re an angry jerk with feelings.” You chuckle and punch him lightly in the shoulder and he can’t help the tiny smile he flashes back to you.

You’re smashing tomatoes in a huge saucepan on the stove, and humming to yourself when Katsuki takes a breath, gathering courage. “Well? What about you? What do you do on a Friday night?” He huffs trying to sound uninterested.

It doesn’t work, you stop mid smash and look at him in disbelief. He instantly gets defensive, eyes bulging and grinding his teeth. “What! You get to ask me my life story and I’m not allowed to ask about you?”

You blink and then put your fingertips to your lips and giggle—cute, unfortunately—before you respond, “I just didn’t think you cared.”

“I don’t. I was bein’ nice,” he says, crossing his arms and turning away as you take another swig of wine and continue smashing the tomatoes.

“Right right. Well I’d probably be doing what I’m doing now. Making dinner, getting drunk and watching movies at home with my best friend. Or at her house,” you say.

Katsuki again swallows the jealousy he feels thinking about you spending time with someone who isn’t him. Will it always be like this? You aren’t even his yet.

Yet?!

His inner monologue is interrupted by you laughing to yourself, saying something about how horny your friend is and how she could use a few weekends to herself. He tries to quickly forget his slip up and singles in on the bait you've given him.

“Then you’re two horny peas in a pod,” he teases in a gravelly voice.

You squint and lift the wooden spoon covered in sauce up toward him. “Not a word about it you annoying little gremlin,” you say through your teeth. “Anyway, we’d watch a movie and drown our sorrows in alcohol and then fall asleep and run errands for the weekend. Start the cycle over and over,” you say sighing in defeat.

Katsuki doesn’t like your tone though. It bothers him, yes you're clearly being humorous but there’s some truth to your depressed tone when you speak.

“Nice to know I’m not the only one you force to watch those shitty movies,” he says trying to lighten the mood again.

You puff up your cheeks in that cute—fuck no stop not cute—pouty way and yell.

“I don’t force her! And for the last time, Disney movies are not shitty! They remind me of my childhood and my mom! And they just…make everything feel...less sad,” you say in a rush, that trickles off into a melancholy stammer.

There it is again, that sad tone echoing in his ears. He tries to hide the concern as you look at the ground sadly and then shake your head and plop your goofy pouty face back on.

Katsuki walks over and grabs the drinking wine from beside you, takes a few huge gulps, then winces as the tangy fruity liquid warms his insides and leaves him feeling tingly. “Ugh how do you drink this shit?” he asks, wiping his lips.

“I have a refined palate,” you say, snatching it from him and taking a sip.

“Yeah, clearly,” he responds, gesturing to the saucepan.

You lift up on your tiptoes to get close to his face and his heart almost stops. He can smell the wine on your breath, your eyelashes flutter as you blink slowly, the wine definitely starting to affect you.

“I’m going to make you eat those words when you finally taste this,” you mutter in a soft assured voice. Katsuki swallows loudly, his Adam’s apple gulping as he stares into your eyes. Your breath is hot on his face and he takes a safe step back away from you before smirking.

“Yeah I guess we’ll see then, won’t we Princess?”

The shit eating grin doesn’t stay on his face long. The shit’s delicious. Katsuki can’t find one thing wrong with it. Everything is cooked to perfection, nothing is too salty, the sauce to meatball to pasta ratio is indeed perfect. Hell, you even made it a little bit spicy just for him and it still is delicious. You’re both sitting on the couch now as you bounce excitedly and point the remote at the tv.

“I tolllllddd you,” you sing happily and Katsuki rolls his eyes for the fifth time.

“Yeah yeah I heard you the first time dummy,” he huffs out leaning back to get comfortable on the couch, belly full and relaxed.

He can feel the wine he drank—he had a glass with dinner as well-—sloshing in his stomach and tingling through his veins. He’s relaxed and enjoying your tipsy bubbliness. You seem really excited to show him this movie and for once he’s happy to indulge you. It’s a chill evening, the sun has finally set and only the light from the TV illuminates the two of you.

You’re both sitting on opposite ends of the couch, as far from each other as possible and Katsuki wishes you’d scoot closer. He momentarily contemplates moving closer to you but decides against it. Probably best to keep his distance, especially after how close you got to him in the kitchen.

The movie starts and Katsuki is instantly turned off by the beginning. The main character reminds him of Deku and the way his superiors treat him brings up bad memories.

It apparently dredges up memories for you as well. He hears you whisper, “Fuckers…ugh,” and Katsuki has to stop himself from laughing at you.

He can see you glance over at him during specific points in the movie, watching his reactions and facial expressions excitedly. He can’t tell if it’s the alcohol making him feel all mushy about it but he tries not to think about how happy he is that your eyes are on him instead of the movie.

As the movie continues and the action starts, Katsuki gets a bit more interested. He didn’t know people died in Disney movies and when one of the ships blows up from the weird fish thing attacking he nearly jumps off of the couch.

“Holy shit! You didn’t tell me people die in this! This is a fucking cartoon!” he yells excitedly. You smile big and bounce on your knees moving closer to him—which he absolutely doesn’t take notice of, shut up—as you squeal.

“I told you! Shit gets real in this movie!”

Katsuki is amazed that he’s actually enjoying it. When Kida is introduced, his eyes bug out of his head and you definitely pick up on it. You squint and give him a teasing smile, moving closer to poke his arm. It's warm where you touch him, almost burning and again he tries to ignore the sensation.

“You like her, don’t you? Think she’s hot?” you snicker.

“Shut up, idiot!” he screams, fanning your hand away as his ears turn red. You're laughing, holding your belly and leaning into his side as he grumbles to himself.

She’s supposed to be hot. Dumb ass animators drew her to be hot of course, plus she’s a bad ass and a fighter. He stops his inner monologue before it can betray him in comparing the made-up character to someone he knows in real life.

He is enjoying himself but there’s a pit in his stomach that hasn’t gone away since he first asked you about your Friday night plans. The sound of your sad tone bugs him, and he can still hear it. When the action has calmed down on screen and the two main characters are speaking to each other about their pasts, Katsuki looks over to you. You’re engrossed in the movie—this must be your favorite part—eyes wide as the blue light reflects in them. You’re right next to him now, not touching him but he can feel the warmth radiating from your body.

He coughs a bit nervously before he says in a gruff soft voice, “Hey.”

“Hmm?” you answer offhandedly.

“What did you mean earlier…uhh… ya know,... when you said these dumb movies make things feel less sad?” He struggles over the words, bracing himself for when you ask him why he even cares and he’s stuck floundering for an explanation, because why does he care?

“Oh, uhh well work is a disaster, my life’s a disaster so like…it helps to lose myself in a made up world where everything ends up being ok at the end.” You say this while shrugging and never taking your eyes from the screen. Almost like it’s natural, like what you’re saying isn’t extremely upsetting or like you’re not actually unhappy with it. Just like you’ve accepted it.

“Your life’s a disaster?” He stretches out and gets a bit more comfy, sneakily putting his arm on the back of the couch and therefore around you as if he’s claiming you as his.

You look at him now, eyes still wide but full of honest truth. He has a feeling you wouldn’t be this open and vulnerable if not for the wine but he’s thankful for it. He wants to know more about you.

“Well yeah. I’m stuck in a dead end job where I work my ass off for not enough pay. But I’m not gonna go anywhere because it’s something I’m good at even if it isn’t what I want to do. Plus I’m afraid of being a disappointment to my mother, which… I’m sure I already am considering where I’m at in life haha. But after a few years, I’ll probably move up in my company and get some recognition for all my hard work, and I don’t know, find a husband and settle down and have a few kids, because that’s life,” you finish, shrugging like it doesn’t bother you even though it clearly does.

Katsuki stares at you blinking and unsure of what to say. He stiffens when you suddenly lean into him, laying your head on his chest and sighing.

“Ahh but wouldn’t it be so cool to do something like Milo did? Go on adventures, see the world, discover new things. That’d be amazing,” you say dreamily.

Katsuki is shocked as he tries to process everything. Everything in him wants to hold you, pull you close to him and tell you you deserve that. Instead he only clears his throat and grunts.

“Tsk, you idiot. You’ve still got time to do all that shit. Your life ain’t over.” You move off of him to look in his eyes and he already misses the warmth your body provided.

“W...what are you saying?” you stutter, fluttering your eyelashes at him. He squints and then rolls his eyes.

“I’m sayin’ don’t rule yourself out yet moron. You still got plenty of time to do all the shit you wanna do. So stop sulking and go do it,” he grunts harshly before adding, ”And you’re not a fucking disappointment. I’ve heard you barking orders to those extras you work with. You keep them all in line. That’s not a disappointment. That’s good leadership.”

You blink in astonishment before smiling genuinely at him. “You know, you’re not that bad when you’re not being an asshole,” you say before laughing hysterically. Surprisingly he joins you and you both sit on the couch laughing with each other before you settle down and turn to look him in the eye.

“Hey for the record,” you say, getting close to his face. He doesn’t move back from you, gazing into your eyes as you take deep breaths and blink slowly up at him. “I think you’re a great hero and you’ll make it to number one in no time,” you finish.

Katsuki licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. A million thoughts are going through his mind. He wants you, so bad it hurts. It can’t be a good idea though. You’re tipsy and so’s he. It wouldn’t be right. Plus what if you're just like this because of the alcohol.

Your eyes are wide and he can tell you're thinking about it. He moves in a bit closer, can smell your breath and feel its warmth on his face. You smell so good he wants to taste you. His heart races and he bites his lip. He moves to reach up and caress your cheek.

A large explosion on the tv makes both of you jump in fright and you pull back away from each other. You quickly turn your attention to the movie and scoot away from him, clearing your throat.

“We’re almost to the end!” you say trying to restore the friendly atmosphere. But Katsuki knows there was something more happening. He won’t say anything, but it definitely won’t be leaving his mind anytime soon.

The thing about drinking wine, especially ¾ of the bottle, it means you will absolutely have to pee in the middle of the night. You always seem to forget that fact every time you drink, but when the clock hits 2 am and your body is suddenly awake and telling you to go, you’re unfortunately reminded. You stumble, eyes half open to your door, a droopy hand on the knob as your sleep filled mind thinks about the fact that you’re only in a t-shirt that barely covers your ass and panties. Nah, there’s no way Bakugo is still up, he’s an old man who goes to sleep at like 8 PM and when you both stumbled to bed after the movie it was like 11PM. He’s probably dead asleep.

You open the door groaning lightly to yourself as you stumble down the dark hallway to the bathroom. You’re so busy cursing your tiny bladder that you don’t hear the rustling in the bathroom and you don’t notice the door slightly cracked instead of being open to signal it’s vacancy. You tiptoe past Bakugo’s room toward the bathroom, put a hand on the knob, and waltz in before a breathy moan followed by your name stops you in your tracks. You’re confused, perhaps still a bit asleep, and thinking that maybe there’s a ghost calling your name?

You can hear wet slapping noises now, grunts and moans and whispered sounds of pleasure and your mind is now begging for a ghost to have been the one that said your name. Your eyes are wide open now as you stand frozen in the doorway.

Bakugo is sitting on the lid of the toilet, shirtless, pajama bottoms down around his ankles. His thighs are flexed as his feet dig into the cute mat around the bottom of the toilet you bought when you first moved in. His head is leaning back, eyes squeezed shut as his large hand moves up and down his very thick—yes you can still tell in the dark—cock. His hand is glistening with precum that dribbles down his shaft and the bathroom is filled with lewd wet noises as he speeds up and bucks into his hand.

The muscles in his thighs flex again and his pecks heave up and down as his breathing increases. He’s grinding his teeth, a peek of his gums showing over his curled up lips, his eyebrows are pulled together in concentration and bliss and when he breathes out and groans in ecstasy, you can see his Adam's apple bob. There’s a sheen of sweat over his body, glistening in the moonlight shining through the tiny window and the erotic scene not only has your pussy dribbling but reveling at how beautiful he is.

He sucks in a breath, still not aware of your presence and you can tell he’s close to finishing. He lifts his hips up into his hand again and growls through his teeth, “Fuck baby, you feel so good around my cock.”

You blink, lick your lips, try to stay quiet until you hear him on the cusp of release groan your name, loud and long and you squeak giving away your presence.

“Oh my god,” you say, breaking the silence.

Bakugo’s head whips up and he stares wide eyed at you, cock still in hand, frozen in actual mortified fear. The two of you stand in shock staring at each other for what seems like hours until you repeat, “Oh my god!” this time with feeling and race out of the bathroom and back to your room.

That. Happened. That actually happened. You’re lying in your bed that morning, staring at the ceiling trying to make sense of everything. You know Bakugo is up, you can hear him banging around in the kitchen and starting his usual workout, but you cannot find the courage to get out of bed and face him.

You’re almost a little jealous of how shameless he is. He saw your dildo and you wanted to hide in your room until the dinosaurs roamed the Earth again, but you catch him jacking it and he gets to stroll around the apartment like he won an award for World’s Best Jacker?

Fuck it.

You get up pulling on comfy shorts and walking to the bathroom to pee—yes you held it the entire night after the incident—and brush your teeth and comb your hair. You look in the mirror once more before departing out into the kitchen.

You still can’t believe he said your name. Bakugo was fantasizing about you. To say you’re flattered is an understatement. To say you’ve never thought about him while you got yourself off would be a lie. To say that you didn’t spend all night replaying the scene and thinking about how pretty his cock was would also be a lie.

You shake your head, clearing your mind as you stare at his back. He’s standing at the stove making something that smells delicious for breakfast. “Ahem...good morning. That umm...smells good,” you say nervously.

He doesn’t turn around, just continues swishing whatever is in the pot around and replies, “Course it smells good. I’m cooking it.”

You roll your eyes and sigh, “Ah so this morning in the bathroom was just so you could reset your asshole levels. Got it.” You stroll over to the coffee maker, pulling out the coffee grounds and turning it on to make your morning cup.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he says, peering angrily over his shoulder.

You look at him in disbelief. Really? He’s gonna act like it didn’t fucking happen? Fat chance of you ever letting this go, especially after he laughed for ten minutes about the fucking dildo. But for now it’s too early to argue and you desperately need coffee if you’re going to get through the rest of the day.

“God, nevermind.” You press the button on the coffee maker and sit at the bay window waiting for it to finish. It’s raining today so the sun isn’t shining through the windows. The clouds block the sun and the pitter patter of rain is soothing.

“So uhh…” Bakugo starts and you almost think he’s going to be the one to bring it up. Instead he says, “I liked the dumb ass Disney movie you showed me last night and I want you to show me more.”

He’s finally turned around toward you and he’s holding two plates with an omelet and fried fish on it. He’s thrown you off again.

“Wait.. really?” you ask incredulously.

He places the plate in your hand then sits at the small table and uses his chopsticks to stab and slice the skin of the fish open. “Yeah, but none of the shitty singing ones. More ones with violence and adventure. And then tonight, I’ll cook dinner for you and show you my favorite movie, since it’s only fair.” He says the last part quietly under his breath.

You glance down at the plate in your hands, and when the coffee pot beeps you get up, place the plate on the table across from him and go to pour yourself a cup. You gesture to the full coffee pot, “Want some?”

He curls his lip up in disgust, ”Tch not a chance. That shit stunts your growth.”

You roll your eyes, turn back toward the cupboard and pull out another mug. You pour a cup, add a bit of cream and sugar to each and then walk over to set one of them in front of him. When he shoots you a pointed look you respond in a sassy voice, “That’s just a myth, idiot.”

For the first time in six months since you two moved in, you two have breakfast together and it’s pleasant. You learn that neither of you are morning people and you enjoy the quiet and rather not speak. You eat in silence, except for when you compliment and thank him for the omelette. He doesn’t even give you a cocky reply, just quietly says you’re welcome before grabbing both of your plates after you finish and washing them silently. He even drinks all the coffee but refuses another cup when you get up to pour yourself another.

You don’t know if it’s just because it’s the morning, or if it was the little heart to heart you had last night during the movie that makes him seem softer, but you like this side of him...a lot.

You watch him wash the dishes as you sip your coffee and again filter through the disney movies you can show him. You decide on Pirates of the Carribean—only the first three because anything after those you despise— and as he places the wet dishes in the drying rack you tap him on the shoulder.

His skin is warm and surprisingly soft despite the scars littered down his back and when he turns to look at you his scarlet eyes bore into you and warm your insides.

“Erm…Pirates of the Caribbean. That’s what we’ll watch. There are three of them so cancel all your plans,” You say smiling brightly and shimmying in excitement so much your coffee plops up on your cheek.

He smirks the cute little half smile you’ve come to find endearing. “You're such a dork,” he goads and uses the shirt wrapped around his neck to wipe the coffee from your cheek.

Again you’re both caught off guard by this soft intimate little exchange and Bakugo’s face divulges that he wasn’t thinking about what he did. Your face heats up and you turn away from him.

“I’m gonna shower before we start, ok?” You walk to the bathroom and shut the door.

You try and fail to not think about how Bakugo was sitting here last night, rubbing his cock to the thought of you while you turn on the water. A nice hot long shower will clear your head, yes.

You’ll enjoy the rest of your Saturday and maybe just maybe you’ll come out of this weekend with a new friend. Just a friend. When your mind wanders again to the way his back muscles looked this morning, you wrench the bathroom door open and yell down the hall.

“And would it kill you to put a shirt on?” When you hear him grunt a playful “Fuck off” down the hall you chuckle and close the door.

Fucking. Hell.

Katsuki slaps a hand over his eyes in embarrassment and relief. He’s dodged another bullet. You didn’t say anything about last night, except for that one sly comment. But goddammit this is becoming difficult.

You make it so hard to not like you, to not be comfortable with you and let his guard down. Watching that movie with you last night was the calmest he’s ever felt and dare he say he had fun hanging out with you. He curses himself for both not pulling you to him to kiss you and also wanting to kiss you. What if you reject him? What if you don’t like him as much as he likes you?

Fuck, that is entirely possible. You call him an asshole every chance you get, with good reason. He sighs and does what he always does when he starts to doubt himself, text Kirishima. When he doesn’t answer and Katsuki can hear the water of the shower turn on, he texts the group chat instead.

(10:42 AM): I fucked up.

Mina: Well good morning to you too Katsuki.

(10:44 AM): Good Morning I fucked up.

Hanta: You mind giving some more details?

(10:44 AM): Wait Mina you just responded? Where the fuck is Eijirou?

Mina: Asleep, why?

(10:45 AM): Because I texted him first.

Dumb Ass: Oh I see so we’re just your second choice then?

(10:45 AM): Yes. Idiot.

Dumb Ass: Why do you always have to be so mean?

Hanta: Anyway back to the issue because I am nosy. What happened Katsuki?

(10:50 AM): I almost kissed her.

Mina: Yay! That’s great! Why almost? Is that the fuck up?

(10:50 AM) No let me finish dammit.

(10:53 AM) I almost kissed her, but I chickened out and she was a little tipsy so it just felt wrong. But then…

Dumb Ass: Dude with all the suspense. Come on already, what did you do? Flash her or somethin’?

(10:55AM): ...

Dumb Ass: NO WAY.

Mina: KATSUKI TELL ME YOU DID NOT WHIP OUT YOUR DICK LIKE ONE OF THOSE WEIRD PERVY DUDES YOU SEE ON TRAINS.

Hanta: DUDE WHAT THE HELL?

Eijirou: I’M HERE YOU DID WHAT?

(10:57AM): Oh so the mention of my dick will wake you up?

Eijirou: Actually Mina’s yelling woke me up. Now don’t change the subject!

(10:58 AM): I DIDN’T FLASH HER OK?

Mina: I never thought I would ever have to type this out to you Katsuki, but I’m proud of you for not flashing your dick to your roommate.

(10:58 AM): Shut up.

Hanta: SO WHAT HAPPENED THEN?

(11:03 AM): She may have caught me… you know…

Dumb Ass: LOL She caught you beating your meat??!?!

Eijirou: You beat your meat?

(11:03 AM): DUH! I’M ONLY HUMAN!

Eijirou: That’s kind of hot.

Mina: Keep it in your pants big guy, I'll take care of you later.

Hanta: Gross.

(11:04 AM): Agreed

Dumb Ass: Hot.

Mina: Shut up. ANYWAY, What did she say? Did she like, see everything or just oops walk in and then shut the door.

(11:06 AM): ...she saw everything. I...said her name.

Eijirou: No fucking way.

Hanta: Dude you’re whipped.

Dumb Ass: I'M SCREENSHOTTING THIS ENTIRE CONVERSATION AND SAVING IT FOREVER. THE KATSUKI BAKUGO GOT CAUGHT MASTURBATING AND MOANING HIS CRUSH’S NAME.

(11:07 AM): You screenshot this and I will end you.

Mina: WHAT HAPPENED AFTER?

(11:08 AM): Nothing. She ran back to her room and then we woke up and I made her breakfast and now we’re going to watch more shitty Disney movies.

Mina: Aww that’s kind of sweet. You made her breakfast?

Dumb Ass: Wow Katsuki makes a “sorry you saw my dick and heard me fantasizing about fucking you” breakfast and he’s sweet but I don’t text a girl back ONCE.

Mina: Denki you GHOSTED that poor girl. You get no sympathy from me, asshole.

(11:11 AM): Yeah you’re an asshole.

Hanta: Did she say anything to you about it this morning?

(11:12 AM): No.

Hanta: Then you’re good. Don’t freak out and enjoy the day. It’s obvious you like her a lot.

(11:14 AM): It ain’t that simple. What if she doesn’t like me?

Hanta: Dude she saw your dick and heard you moan her name and she’s still talking to you.

Eijirou: Hanta’s right man, if she’s still sticking around after that, it's kind of safe to assume she likes you. Just start there and don’t overthink it.

Mina: Yeah and next time if she moves in closer to you, grab her face and kiss her all romantic like! If she moves closer it means she’s inviting you to kiss her!

Dumb Ass: Yeah bro in all seriousness I’m happy for you. She seems like a cool girl and if you like her this much, I’d say go for it.

(11:20 AM): Thanks.

Dumb Ass: And then if you fuck it up, I can swoop in and be her knight in shining armor.

Mina: DENKI!

(11:21 AM): fuck off.

Dumb Ass: I’m joking!

Katsuki shoves his phone back into his pocket. Hanta’s right. You didn't seem to mind and you looked excited to watch more movies with him. He takes a deep breath in and out, calming his nerves. He hears the water in the shower stop and he prepares himself.

--

The first movie is a success in keeping you both enthralled in the action. Katsuki really enjoys the way you watch movies. Even though you’ve definitely seen them all many times before, you still watch them with the same excitement as if it’s the first time you’re seeing it.

It not only makes the movie entertaining but the experience of watching it with you enjoyable as well. Like last night he finds himself watching you more than the movie. You’re sitting next to him on the couch—not a full couch cushion away but right next to him—with crossed legs and wide eyes as you stare at the screen.

The two of you chat in between scenes and the fifth time you say “I fucking love pirates” while watching a sword clashing scene, he says it with you and you both laugh.

“Yeah yeah I know. You fucking love pirates,”

You spend the afternoon snacking on popcorn, giggling and asking each other questions as you watch through the trilogy. He learns your favorite color and about the time you accidentally shaved half your head and then wore it through most of high school:

“How do you accidentally shave half your head?”

“You accidentally shave one patch off and then keep going because you think you can ‘fix it’. It worked out though because I looked super hot and intimidating and no one fucked with me for the rest of the school year.”

You learn about his first hero name and about the cute little sailor outfit his mom dressed him in for pictures when he was 5 that you unfortunately talked him into showing you:

“Wait until everyone hears that “King Explosion Murder” took cute pictures as a wittle baby sailor”

“You utter a word about it to anyone and I’ll personally see to it that you never type another tweet again,”

Katsuki never ever gets tired of the screeching wheezing laughter you emit when one of the pirates on screen does some stupid shit, or the way you giggle behind your hands when he comments about how cool one of the characters is. Barbossa may be a villain but he’s badass and has the best lines.

The afternoon carries on as the rain continues to beat against the window and Katsuki only has to tell himself to stop looking at your thighs in the shorts you wear three times which is quite the accomplishment. You step out halfway through the third movie to answer a call from your mother that takes literally two hours and when you come back out of your room, you're smiling apologetically at him. He’s in the kitchen chopping vegetables when you waltz out.

“Geez took you long enough.”

“Sorry, that woman doesn’t know the meaning of ‘a quick chat’,“ you say laughing. You stand next to him, peering over his shoulder at the vegetables he’s chopping. “Whatcha making?”

“Spicy curry, full of vegetables to combat all the sweet sugary bullshit you pumped into my body today,” he says smugly. You hop up on the counter next to him kicking your legs as you watch him chop. You swipe a chopped carrot from the pile and pop it into your mouth.

“Hey I didn’t pump anything into you. I only have control over what I pump into myself,” you say, chewing and wiggling your eyebrows.

“I’m aware of what you spend your money on. Remember?” He teases, continuing to chop and enjoying the way your eyes go wide and you turn away from him in embarrassment again.

“Yeah well, I’m aware of your early morning activities so you have no room to talk,” you say back reaching for another carrot but before you can pick one up Katsuki catches your wrist in his large hand. His body moved before he could think again and he’s staring at you with a tense glare as your eyes widen. You look almost frightened and he scolds himself for scaring you, but he softens his gaze and loosens his grip.

“So you did see,” He grunts.

“Yeah,” is all you respond.

There’s a long pause as neither of you look at each other. Katsuki is still holding your wrist, idly rubbing his thumb over your soft skin. This is it. This is where you tell him to fuck off for being a perv.

“But…I liked it.”

What?

He tears his eyes from the floor to look at you and he finds you batting your lashes at him and smirking. He tried to keep a steady pace of his breathing but he’s tingling inside with anxiety and excitement as he replays your words over and over to decipher the meaning. His hand moves from your wrist to grasp your hand now and he watches your reaction carefully.

“What’d you say?” he asks, a devilish grin playing on his lips. He drops the knife and turns around to stand in between your legs. He sighs under his breath in relief when you open your thighs to welcome him in. You're cheekily smiling at him, batting your eyelashes like an innocent school girl confessing a crush.

“I said I liked it.” It’s a light whisper, breathy like you have no control over your breathing and then Katsuki is wrapping his arms around your waist, digging his fingers into your hips and pulling you closer to him. Your ass is halfway on the counter now and you're both so close, hearts beating quickly as you stare into each other's eyes.

Katsuki tries to shut all the thoughts running through his mind out but he’s only a little worried he’ll move too quickly and you’ll push him away. He can feel your hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer, your thighs wrapping around his torso and squeezing him and you even bite your lip as you look at him.

It’s all the signs that you want him to kiss you and he still hesitates. He knows there’s no turning back if he does this. You’ve already got him wrapped around your finger. Hanta was right, he is whipped and the second he gets to feel your lips against his, he’ll want nothing but you. So he looks into your eyes, feels you tighten your thighs around his waist and push your tits into his chest, he flashes you his signature shit eating grin.

“You sure you don’t wanna go grab the dick?”

Your eyes widen and then you roll them sassily, “Oh my go-” before he crashes his lips into your open mouth and slips his tongue between your soft lips. The second his lips collide with yours and his tongue is tasting you, you moan like it’s the first time you’ve been kissed in a long time. Your fingers pull the hair at the nape of his neck and he grunts as he pulls your hips closer to him and grinds his cock against your thigh.

Katsuki hasn’t kissed many people but it wouldn’t matter if he had because your lips would still be the softest lips he’s ever kissed. He’s blown away by how good you taste, how your lips move against his, how you bite his lip and tug his hair greedily and it makes his cock ache. You’re definitely not as shy as you’d have him believe. Your grinding against him, moaning pathetically and goddammit he wants to see you naked and begging and stuffed full of his cock.

When he pulls away from you to take a breath, your pupils are blown, you’re breathing hard and biting your lip and he can see you weren’t ready for him to pull away just yet. But he has plans for you, plans that do not include fucking you right here on the counter next to the food even though he desperately wants to. So instead he cups your face between his big hands and gives you a peck on the lips, silently enjoying the ease of doing so.

“Alright you horny freak, you should eat before things get too hot and heavy,” he says trying to turn the hard on in his sweatpants away from your leg.

~~~

He’s joking right. He’s got to be joking. You’re sitting with your super sexy—might as well admit it—roommate between your legs after he just made out with you. You thought you were about to be dicked down and he just...stops and talks about continuing dinner?

This man is truly an enigma, he fucks his fist to the thought of you, makes you breakfast the next morning and pretends you didn’t catch him doing it and then when he finally confronts you about it, he kisses you then tells you to he’s gonna finish dinner instead of fucking your brains out like what would’ve happened in a romcom. Not to mention the complete shift of his personality. You can hardly believe just a few days ago you were at each other’s throat.

He takes your face between his hands, kisses you again, then moves from between your legs to start chopping again.

“No goddamn way,” you pout as he laughs at you. “There’s no way I am the horny freak. Not after you diddled yourself to the thought of me!”

“Don’t ever fucking say I ‘diddled’ myself again,” he responds, now glowering at you.

“I’ll say what I want,” you reply bratty and he drops the knife and stands in front of you again. He scrutinizes you for a second, raising an eyebrow and squinting.

“You’re actually upset, aren’t you? You’re such a fucking brat,” he says, half shocked and half amused. You poke out your lips and raise your eyebrow as well.

“So what if I am? Too much for you to handle?” you challenge and his eyes darken.

You smirk and before you can do anything more he’s on his knees in front of you. He pushes your thighs apart and sinks his teeth into your skin before sucking to stop the blood flow and leave a huge mark.

His tongue is warm and you moan instantly when he kisses there. His fingers keep your thighs pushed apart as he blazes a path of kisses up your inner thigh sucking and licking and biting as he goes. He speaks in between each kiss.

“You have… no...fucking.. Idea… how much I’ve wanted this.”

You bite your lip, he hasn’t even gotten close to your pussy yet and you’re already moaning like a pornstar. Great way to let him know how desperate you were for some action. Still he’s really really good at this, like too good at this and you wonder how many times he’s done this.

When he finally does make it up to your clothed pussy his fingers move to the waistband of your shorts and he looks up at you, scarlet eyes gleaming between your thighs.

Permission. He’s wordlessly asking or—pleading judging by his increased breathing and quiet groans—for permission to keep going, while his warm breath is still caressing your thighs and his mouth is still sucking and making a mark on your inner thigh. His eyes look feral like your word of consent will release a beast.

You look down at him and nod and he moves so fast pulling the shorts down your legs you have no time to be shocked that your bare pussy is right in front of his face now.

“You probably taste so fucking good. I’ve been waiting to know what you taste like,” he groans as he stares at your pussy, glistening with slick from his kisses and words.

You’re gnawing on your bottom lip at his confession and you breathe his name, a silent plea for him to do something as the cool air makes goosebumps rise on your skin. He pushes your thighs further apart to get a better look, licking his lips like a hungry animal.

“What a pretty pussy,” he whispers and you gasp at the praise. Then he uses his fingers to pull your lips apart, succumbing to his desire to finally taste you. He surprises you with tiny quick licks, cleaning the dribbling slick, slipping down your ass and thighs and even that almost sends you over the edge.

You throw your head back , eyes closed, “Oh… oh fuck Baku-“

The absence of his lips makes your eyes pop open and you’re about to release a string of the foulest language ever spoken for him teasing you again. But when you look into his eyes and see the seriousness you grow a bit worried.

“No,” he says simply. Your eyes bug out of your head.

Panting you respond, “No...what?”

“I’m not about to be face first in your pussy and listen to you call me ‘Bakugo’ like I’m some common guy you met on the street,” he huffs. You cannot believe he’s between your legs, mouth literally inches from your pussy, having this conversation.

“That’s your name. What else do you want me to call you, ‘daddy’?” you quip, trying to sneakily scoot your cunt closer to his face.

The shit eating grin returns and there's a quick glint that flashes across his eyes. He runs a finger through your folds, coating his finger and popping it into his mouth. You whine a squeaky desperate mewl.

He chuckles and it’s dripping with the cocksure tenor of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I don’t have to ask people to call me that, Princess. That comes later. For now, ’Katsuki’ is fine.”

Before you can roll your eyes from the annoyance of his cocky statement you feel his tongue flatten against your folds and lick with gusto. Your eyes instead roll to the back of your head and like he’s using magic to pull words from you, you whimper his name and grind your clit against his nose.

“Oh...fuck...K...Katsuki.” It feels good in your mouth, all the syllables tumbling from your lips in a moan, almost like it was meant to be moaned.

You can feel him chuckle against your pelvic bone and it strangely adds to the pleasure he’s bestowing upon you. Then he opens his mouth and spits on your clit before sucking it loudly, spit mixing with your cum as he slurps and groans into your pussy.

You know he’s talented. You know he’s a strong, pro hero with kick ass instincts and lots of intelligence, but the way he eats pussy, this must be his secret talent. He’s talking against your clit as his tongue runs intricate little patterns over it, filthy things that make your cheeks heat up, your heart race, your moans louder and sends your ego through the roof.

“You taste so fucking good. I knew you would. I fucking knew it. So pretty… such a pretty pussy… want you to squirt all over my tongue.”

You don’t think he can push his face any further into your cunt, that is until he takes both hands, spreads your folds, and pistons his tongue into you. He has you seeing stars and your hands immediately fist into his hair, white hot pleasure pooling in your core.

He’s growling now as you pull his locks in pleasure, grinding against his nose as he pushes his tongue deeper into your walls. Your jaw drops and you lean farther back on the counter arching your back.

“You gonna come for me? Already? I haven’t even given you my fingers yet,” He growls between your thighs, eyes shining from below you.

“Shut… the fuck…UP,” you manage to get out and again he laughs against your pussy and makes you jerk at the jolt of pleasure.

He reaches up to grind circles on your clit with his thumb and again you whimper and squeak in pleasure. “Who’s too much to handle?”

He has full control over you now and you give in willingly. You can’t even think of a witty response back to him. Your mind is too focused on his thumb moving faster and faster over your mound. “Katsuki, please… I can’t… I’m gonna…”

You're on the cusp of release, panting, shaking, moaning, the coil in your belly tightening as he grows hungrier. He growls louder, grunting and slurping excessively nibbling your clit, pulling at your lips, and coaxing you to come on his face.

“Come for me princess.”

You oblige, dropping your head back and moaning as your cum drips down your thighs and sprays on his face. He opens his mouth and accepts your juices graciously, licking your thighs and pussy to clean up the mess.

“Oh my fuck…” you gasp trying to catch your breath.

When he’s all done and your body relaxes from the onslaught of pleasure, you sit back up on the counter, the lip leaving an indentation from you sitting on the edge. Katsuki, still crouching between your legs, flashes all of his teeth with a hint of gum on the side before he slaps a wet open mouthed kiss onto your clit and snorts when you jolt, whimper, and push his head away.

“Now, like I said. It’s time for dinner.”

---

Katsuki is loading a huge helping of rice and curry onto two plates, face still sticky with your juices. He revels in it, plays the way you moaned his name over and over in his mind, how it rolled off your tongue, how right it felt coming from you and his pants tighten.

There isn’t anything that could ever be better than eating your pussy, except maybe fucking you. He clears his throat as he thinks about it again and turns to you. You’re sitting on the counter next to him again, a different pair of shorts on now and a huge smile on your face as you watch him move around the kitchen.

“Eat,” he grunts, shoving the plate in your hands.

You giggle, obviously basking in your post-orgasm bliss and hop down from the counter to go and sit at the small kitchen table. “You’re so bossy.”

“Tch, I just cooked dinner with your cum still on my face. I have every right to be bossy. Now shut up and tell me how good my cooking is,” he snaps back.

“Well I could suck your dick in exchange for the pre-dinner face riding,” you flirt back licking your lips.

Katsuki groans low wriggling to readjust the way his cock twitches against his leg in his baggy sweatpants. His eyebrows are furrowed in frustration as he saunters over to place his plate down on the table, then he swiftly grabs your cheeks in between his strong fingers and makes you look up at him.

“That wasn’t some sort of transaction. I didn’t do it so you could return the fucking favor or anything. I did it because I fucking wanted to. Got it?” he says, glaring seriously into your eyes. You nod once and he releases you and sits down across the table. He grins a toothy smile when you take a bite of the curry and put your hand up to your cheek in shock.

You scarf the rest down happily and he wouldn't admit this aloud but the fact that you enjoy his cooking makes him almost as proud as he would feel if he were the number one hero. When you’re both done eating and sitting back on the couch to finish the ending of the movie, you pat your belly satisfied.

“A man of many talents, I see,” you say, tipping an imaginary hat to him and he laughs and mutters “dork” again under his breath. “No but seriously, where’d you learn to do that?”

“Cooking is easy dummy,” he shrugs and presses play. Leave it to you to be easily impressed by everything. You scrunch your nose—how is everything you do so cute?—and scoff.

“I’m not talking about cooking, dummy,” you say mockingly and when he realizes what you mean he smiles wickedly.

“That’s just called being talented toots.” He says this with the same air of confidence he does when he tells everyone he’ll be number one.

To his surprise you don’t roll your eyes or snap back with a witty comment. Instead you drop your eyes and fiddle with the hem of your shorts anxiously.

“A lot of practice, I assume?” You say, voice wavering and not looking at him. He understands what you’re insinuating and raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe a few,” he responds nonchalantly.

“A few?”

“What are you? A parrot? Yeah a few.”

“And how many is a ‘few’?” You’re smiling a wily cat smile as you scoot closer to him on the couch and poke his bicep annoyingly. He blows out a frustrated noise.

“Like two or three, alright? Why the fuck does it matter?”

“Oh,” You blink as the number catches you off guard. He can’t read your expression, can’t tell whether the number is higher or lower than you expected. Either way it’s annoying not knowing what you’re thinking. He takes the chance to make it less awkward and boost his ego again.

“I don’t fuck every girl who throws her pussy at me,” he huffs squinting his eyes and turning to watch the tv grumpily.

“So there’s a lot of girls throwing pussy at you?” you inquire. He can tell you’re trying to stay nonchalant but the slight quiver of your voice at the end of the sentence gives you away.

Are you actually jealous? The thought makes Katsuki’s heart beat race and feeds his ego once again. He could reassure you that the others he slept with weren’t nearly as good as you and that he didn’t have interest in anyone else but you, but why ruin the fun? Instead he shrugs, peeping at you from the corner of his eye.

“Why? Are you jealous?”

“Nothing to be jealous about,” you say, turning away and it looks like you’re giving up on something.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you back closer to him. Your warm body is against his chest now, one leg swung over his torso and a hand over his heart. His arm is wrapped around the small of your back and he pulls your face close, glaring into your eyes.

“You’re right. Cuz I don’t want anyone else,” he rasps in a husky voice.

He squeezes your hip and you bite your lip, your eyes narrowing as a sensual smile flutters onto your lips. You reach a hand up to stroke his cheek and he closes his eyes to concentrate on your soft nimble fingers as you move them up the side of his face to play in his hair.

You lick your lips, move closer and run them over his as you speak. “Tell me what you were thinking about when you were...”

You grind your thigh over his cock, rapidly growing again in his sweatpants and he grinds his teeth. “You know what I was thinking about.”

You’re close to his ear now, voice barely above a whisper as your hands move up and down his chest. He sucks in through his teeth, feeling your teasing fingers draw patterns in his chest, lingering on his raised nipples. You giggle and kiss his neck and he clears his throat to stop the loud groan pushing its way up his throat.

“I want to hear you say it, Katsuki.” His name again falling from your lips with familiarity, like you’ve known him a lifetime and then in a firmer demanding tone, “Tell me.”

He’s heard this tone before, when you’re on conference calls with your dumb ass coworkers and you’re handling business. His heart is thumping in his chest and he closes his eyes, digs his fingers into your hip and thigh, grinds up against your leg now putting pressure on his cock.

Your command awakens something in him. He’s not one to take orders from anyone. But the way you’ve captured him, he’ll only admit it in his head, if you were to tell him to do anything right now, he’d do it without hesitation.

And so, he speaks through heaving breaths and groans caught in his throat as you continue to kiss and lick his neck, laying out his fantasy for you.

“I thought about making you...fuck...scream my name, and watching you sink down on my cock, begging me for more,” he says through clenched teeth.

Your hand runs down his chest and for the first time you grasp his dick through his sweatpants. He groans now, no longer trying to hold it in as you palm it and lick his earlobe.

“I’m not really one to beg, you’d have to be really good,” you tease, rubbing up and down his shaft.

He grinds his teeth again. “Always such a fucking...teas-”

A guttural noise oozes from him when your hand plunges down his pants to grasp his bare cock.

Your hand is so fucking soft, warm and small and dainty. He’s twitching uncontrollably in your hand and your moaning and sucking on his neck is almost enough to send him over the edge. He bucks up, flexing his thighs and hips trying to get you to move but instead you grip him tightly, press down on his thighs and keep him situated in place.

“What the fuck are you-“ he grunts between clenched teeth, growing annoyed at your incessant teasing.

“Shut up and don’t move,” you purr. You slide down his body, force his legs open and situate yourself between them on your knees. You keep your eyes on his, hand still plunged inside of his pants playing with the precum quickly oozing from his tip.

A faint smirk plays on your lips as you slowly shimmy his pants down his hips. You help him step out of them, lifting one foot and then the other before throwing them to the side. The cool air in the room relieves the burning need for your pretty lips to be wrapped around his cock and he sighs.

His eyes bore into yours, not daring to flit away for a moment as you appraise him with a hungry lust in your eyes. He watches you lick your lips hungrily before you whisper, “It’s so pretty, Katsuki.”

His hips jerk up and he clenches his fists at his side. Every fantasy of you he’s dreamed up is nothing compared to how desirable you look right now, on your knees and praising him.

You quirk an eyebrow as he sucks in a quick breath, a hissing noise sliding through his teeth as you bring the tip of his cock to your lips. You kiss it, a quick peck right on the tip and his precum glosses your lips.

You giggle and breathe heavily over his aching cock, grasp him again, your hand barely able to wrap around his girth and lock eyes with him. You’re smiling seductively at him, a bit playful and fuck, if he’s doesn’t feel your mouth around his dick anytime soon he won’t be able to hold back anymore.

“I’m doing this because I fucking want to. Got it?” you parrot his words from earlier before you lick long and slow from the crease in his balls all the way up to the slit of his dick.

“Ffffuckkkk,” he hears himself say. It feels like an out of body experience, your slow deliberate kitten licks as your tongue swirls around every portion of his cock. You moan in response smiling as you move back down to his balls and pop one into your mouth, sucking with gusto.

You’re worshipping him, he’s ready to burst and you haven’t even taken him all the way into your mouth yet. Seems he’s not the only talented one. He lifts a hand to fist it into your hair as you take his other ball into your mouth and suck graciously.

“Unf…that’s so fucking good,” he moans

Your hand moves quickly to grasp his wrist and pin it back to his side, firm and tight. Your message is clear. You’re in charge right now and he will listen. If this were another time, if you were someone else, if the desire slotted deep in his core burning it’s way down to his cock weren’t so deep, he’d show you who’s boss.

For now though, he focuses on not shooting his cum onto your face as you lick up his shaft again. You slob all over it, mixing with slick before you look at him and command, “watch me.”

You wrap your lips around him and take him deep down your throat watching him with hollowed cheeks as you sink down.

All of his muscles tense as he groans in bliss, veins popping out on his forehead and hands as he tries to keep them put at his side. He doesn’t dare take his eyes off of you, he curls up his lip, showing his pointy canines and focusing on your throat.

You start moving, bobbing your head up and down, slurping and gagging as you struggle to keep his thick shaft down your throat. Your tongue swirls around him and when you lift up to take a breather, he can’t hold back anymore.

He bucks his hips up, placing his large hand on your head and luckily not catching you off guard. Instead you reach up to grab his wrist, maneuver yourself so he can easily keep thrusting up into your mouth and moan around his cock, encouraging him to continue. He plunges down your throat, fucking your face and losing himself in your gags and moans.

“Fuck, fuck baby. You’re so good, you suck dick like a fucking pro, oh fuck oh fuck,” he praises as he feels the pressur in his gut build to a release. He’s so close, limbs twitching as he squeezes his eyes shut. He can feel you dig your nails into his muscular thighs and he’s about to shoot sticky hot cum down your throat.

“Can I-unf...down your throat? Can you take it baby? All of it?” he grunts through labored breaths and just as you whine what sounds like an affirmation, he thrusts one last time and holds your face down, growling and grunting as you take his load happily down your throat.

His body goes limp as he relaxes back on the couch. You look up at him, cheeks stained with tears and his cum and fuck it’s so sexy. His dick grows hard again when you smile in delight and open your mouth wide, tongue hanging out to show him that you swallowed every last drop of him.

It drives him wild and he’s no longer trying to hold back. His body moves on it’s own, grabbing you and slinging you over his shoulder as you squeal in shock and what he hopes is excitement. He stomps to your room and throws you on the bed, the fairy lights you’ve hung on the ceiling rattling and providing the perfect amount of light.

“Katsuki…” you breathe watching him with wide eyes. You don’t have to say it, he knows what you want and now he’s hell bent on giving it to you.

He stares down at you, cock twitching against his leg, “Take off those fucking clothes,” he says in husky voice.

He watches you pull the shirt over your head, your tits exposed to him. “Heh no bra?” He quips, licking his lips.

“Easier without one,” you retort, wiggling your brows. You shimmy out of the tight shorts and lay bare before him. Everything about you is delectable and he stares at your pussy like it’s the first time he’s seen it all over again.

You're dripping and glistening under the soft lights. Your hands cup your breast and you pinch your nipples while watching him. “Like what you see?” You giggle again and he shakes his head.

“What happened to that ”embarrassed girl” act you were doing, huh?” He says crawling over your naked form. The heat from your cunt beckons to him as you spread your legs to welcome his presence between them.

“Had to match your cocky energy,” you squeak, placing a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. He can’t hide the blush that dusts his cheeks and you laugh when you see it and wrap your arms around his neck.

His heart races, the amorous joy on your face warming his cheeks and pumping blood between his legs. He lines the head of his cock up to your entrance, sliding it through your folds and readying himself with your slick.

He bites his lip, gazing into your now lidded eyes as you mewl beneath him, a pleading expression finding its way onto your face. It boosts his confidence and before he pushes into you he grunts, “I’m gonna ruin you princess.”

You gasp when the head of his cock pushes past your tight ring of muscle and he grinds his teeth and clenches the sheets between his fingers. You’re fluttering around him, breathing heavily and moaning. A string of curses escape your lips as he slowly pushes further into you. When he finally bottoms out you both cry out in ecstasy.

He’s done it. He’s finally inside you, and holy fuck you’re squeezing him so tight. Your back is arched up, you’re wailing about how good his cock feels and he hasn’t even started moving. This scene will forever stay in his mind. He looks down to see you stretched around him, sloppy and dribbling while your legs quiver.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” he hisses.

You whimper as he adjusts onto his elbows and pulls your body closer to his. Then he pulls out slowly and rocks and grinds his hips back into you. He can feel his dick dragging against every spongy ridge in your pussy with every deep thrust.

Your hands are interlocked tightly around his neck, your eyes squeezed shut and biting so hard on your lip he can see the teeth imprints left on your lip when you drop your jaw and wail his name.

“Katsuki… Katsu… please… it’s so good… oh fuck…”

Your moans intensify with every drive of his hips and soon he’s slamming into you. He’s lost in how your pussy grips him, aching to feel more and more of you. He pushes your legs back, opens them wider as he pounds into you. Squelching wet sounds and slapping skin accompany your singing cries of pleasure.

“Come for me baby, come on my cock. You can do it,” he coaxes in your ear, sweet and passionate.

Katsuki’s feral growls and grunts of pleasure come to a head when you clamp around him, squealing and squirting on his cock. Your chest is heaving as you pull him close to your body, your limbs locking around him and holding him as you convulse and fall limp on the bed.

A few more pumps of his hips into your bruised cunt and he’s quickly pulling out to paint your belly with thick ropes of cum. He collapses on top of you, and pulls your face up to kiss you, lips moving lazily against yours as you both catch your breath.

He keeps kissing as your fingers dance around on his back, wet smacks up and down your jaw like he can’t get enough of you. Your eyes are closed as you hum in post orgasmic bliss. Katsuki can’t stop the words falling from his lips between kisses.

“Be..my..girl...be mine…all mine...please.”

He can feel your cheeks heat and lift as you smile and whisper. “Ok.”

His heart swells when he hears your response and he chuckles as he flops on his back and pulls you into his chest.

“Good. Now I know you’ll forgive me,” he says, looking at the ceiling and tracing lines on your back as you cuddle up to him.

“Forgive you for what?” You say, lifting your head from his chest to look into his eyes worriedly.

He sneers teasingly, “Putting your dildo out of a job before you ever got a chance to use it.”

--

Thank you so much for reading!

Innocence

Pairing: Chota x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: There’s just something about an innocent and kind person that this world still hasn’t able to ruin. It’s like there’s this aura around them. The kind of aura that someone like you needs to surround themselves with.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mildly Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Loss of Virginity, Dom/sub, Innocence Kink, dark!Reader, Light Angst

Notes: Anonymous asked: Chota x reader? 👉👈 (gonna pretend they didn’t die) then they saw the beach and the reader who is an executive on the beach got interested in him?

Okay so, this was a trip. Please be careful of the warnings, do not read if any of it upsets you. It’s not that bad tho, but still. Hope you enjoy! <3

You observe the newly arrived residents of the Beach with curious eyes.

They’re an odd group of friends, these ones. There are five of them, and they all look so different that you wonder how they even came to be. They’re obviously close if the few dynamics you’ve noticed between them are anything to go by, but still, a pretty intriguing group made of intriguing individuals.

You’re not even listening to Hatter as he gives his usual speech; you’re much more interested in them. Or him, to be exact. 

Keep reading

Reacting to their future kids

Request: bakugou hawks and todoroki meeting their kids from the future pleeeasee :33

A/n: There it is! Let me know your thoughts or if you wanted something else feel free to request again!

.:✩ Bakugou✩:.

He’s dumbfounded.

He’s genuinely confused because he thought he’d never have kids?

He always pictured himself as the Greatest Hero, and for that, sacrifices needed to be done, like leaving behind his desire to have a family.

This doesn’t really stop him from getting to know his daughter, who unsurprisingly got his awful personality.

Physically, the only things that made it obvious to him that the twelve years old girl was his daughter were her burning red eyes, explosion quirk, and spiky hair (but it was h/c).

Despite being her future daughter, he calls her ‘little shit’, but he’s ready to beat the crap out of anyone who dares to look at her maliciously.

Man, did this over-protectiveness surprise him.

He’s like, ‘the fuck?’, but gets over it pretty soon, deciding that spending time with her and getting to know his future family was far more important.

Katsuki treats her to some shopping, ice cream, and whilst chatting, he learns that sadly, she has a crush on Deku’s kid.

He’s gonna annihilate him.

No one touches his baby girl, especially the spawn of fucking Deku.

Anyways

He tries to figure out who her mother might be, and the color of her hair leads him thinking about you.

He can’t suppress the redness that crawls on his cheeks, intensifying by seconds as he imagines you pregnant, carrying his child.

His daughter seems to pick it up, and with a smirk and wiggling brows, she asks “Thinking about mom again?”

Katsuki chokes on his spit, not expecting the little shit to say something like that so suddenly.

“Fuck no! What the fuck makes you think that?”

She shrugs. “Your face always turns that color when you look at her, or when you think about nasty things.”

Katsuki is dying of embarrassment, but still, he wants to be sure that you’re the one marrying him and not someone else.

So, he swallows his pride, and in a pitiful attempt to hide his burning red cheeks, he turns around, voice soft as he asks about her mother’s name.

“Bakugou Y/n”

Cue, Bakugou drags you around, forcing you to spend time with him and the little girl, not really telling you who exactly she was.

He watches you interact with your daughter, constantly getting lost into the sight whenever there’s some motherly instincts snapping inside of you, like wiping away some food from her chin, or blowing on her scratched knee, talking to her with a babying voice, etc…

After the kid is back to his time, Bakugou noticed how her personality took 190 degree after he brought you, acting as if she was the sweetest angel alive while when alone with him, she gave him a hellish life.

He realizes that a week after she’s already gone.

“That little shit…”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Say… you free this Saturday night?”

“Yes, why?”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock. Make me wait and I’ll blast you in the outer space.”

.:✩ Hawks ✩:.

Keep reading

Pairings: Suna Rintarō & F!Reader.

Characters: Suna Rintarō. Miya Osamu. Miya Atsumu. Princess Alisa.

Genre: Alternate Universe—Royalty. Angst. Fluff. Tags: Enemies to Lovers. (in a Forbidden Love sort of way.) Suggestive. Betrayal. Duchess!Reader. Mentions of assassination. Mentions of alcohol. Profanity. Villain!Suna.

Note: Will have a part two when I regain some semblance or drop of my will to live. Not proofread, at all.

You were never sure what to make of grand balls. You feel, a part inherent to you holds a level of affinity towards them. Even so, you grimace at the thought of its crowd—rich, snobby nobles and the like.

The royal family had asked (more so required) you of your presence, and with the bright pleading eyes of the princess, you folded.

Because she was your friend; and she hated these grand balls more than you ever did.

You get pampered, treated the best. People always say, it’s because you’re a treasure to the royal family, the cornerstone of humanity and the kingdom itself—because you’re strong, and full of wit, and powerful in your own right. That’s what they say.

You repeat these to yourself when your body is being caged into a snug corset, a dress so elegant hugging your body.

Keep reading

til death do us part - aizawa shouta

this is for my dearest @httptamaki and her fake dating collab! kar, congratulations on 1K, babe! to many more

warnings: graphic descriptions of injury, descriptions of death/dying, major character death, whump, hurt/"comfort," all angst - no plot and no fluff

Her supports were screaming at her, warning her that her pulse to be dangerously higher than her healthy maximum: as if she could be surprised about it. Her hair was matting to her forehead, her pupils filling up her irises to the near edge, and all of these indicating that the wound, a gash across her middle, was much deeper than she initially thought.

What was she meant to do?

Everyone has a reason for why they behave, hero work happened to be hers.

The only problem was, she was almost too determined, too prideful to stall and wait, even if she’d lose. The very good advice she had given to a few underlings was one she very seldom followed: sometimes the only thing to do is wait.

Other heroes could stand bystander at a burning building, but how could she sleep at night if all she ever did was wait, leaving the saving to those with flashier quirks?

She had severely underestimated that guy’s strength, and severely sustained damage in return. The wound to her honor was fatal in itself: some mediocre moron of a villain had taken her out. If you ever encounter an enemy with a foiling quirk, wait for support. If only that luxury existed in reality. Yet at the end of the day, the surrounding communities still stood, safe and sound, so her job was done, at least for now, and so was the utmost duty of a hero, all at the cost of health and sanity.

Nevertheless, she had tapped out after other heroes came to her aid; they had encouraged it with how bent out of shape she was. In addition to the wound, she’d surely broken her hand, if not half the bones in her wrist. Leave it to her to let her guard down in the name of justice. She’d never hear the end of it at an inevitable summons to the Commission.

She wandered the street for just a moment, letting the pain catch up to her as she replayed the events of the last hours. Shame, regret, and disappointment flushed the pain from her mind; the advice of her mentors, the fear that she had let them down, and the guilt of it all, numbing all feelings for just a second.

Lean into the opponent. Never turn your back on your enemy. Breathe on defense. It all makes sense when she was in school. She remembered thinking: Obviously I would never not do those things. She lost it back there, using up all of her stamina at the cost of her well being to deliver maximum damage, and all she could keep telling herself to cope was that sometimes, even heroes lose it.

The stinging in her gut was pulsing through the rest of her body. Instinct was telling her to find help, to call someone to get her, yet another force was pulling her around the bend, down an avenue into a semi-familiar neighborhood. Although she couldn’t mentally register why, or how, or even what she was doing; she was seeking someone out specifically, someone who would scold her surely, but ultimately, it was their presence she craved most in her dire hour.

He definitely lived somewhere around here. . . 5-2-1, 5-2-2, 5-2-3. . .

Mr. Aizawa Shouta

5-2-4. . .

Rapping frantically at first, she braced herself against the door frame and laid a few more forceful knocks before falling forward when he finally answered.

“About damn time,” she hissed before letting out a long groan and taking advantage of the fact that he’d caught her to bunch her costume up against the gash.

“Tell me I’m not forgetting something,” he grunted. “You’re heavy, better not be our anniversary. . . If I’d known I wouldn’t have ordered takeout…”

She didn’t need to look at him to see his expression: his brows knitted tightly together as he sighed out of the corner of his mouth, the muscles in his face flexing and making the scar under his right eye twitch with emotion. The small chuckle hurt her chest, a tight squeeze around her lungs following the puff of air.

She couldn’t stop herself from grabbing onto his shirt with all the strength left in her other hand, his warmth soothing the aches in her muscles and his scent calming her just enough to finally close her eyes, but not before she stole just one more look at him.

When she’d gotten her hero license, she would’ve done anything to make it onto the billboard charts, hence signing her name on the dotted line next to the seasoned hero like Eraserhead.

The details of the arrangement were now all fuzzy. At first, it was something about publicity, coupled with the fact that their quirks worked perfectly together: close combat and stealth. They were dubbed “happy couple heroes.” Now, it seemed he was all too keen on making what a publicity charade a nonfiction chapter in the book of life.

It was his perseverance she admired, if anything, and as if she’d actually admit it to him! No matter what she did, who she went out with, or how many times she did extra patrols by herself, he put up with her. Never complained (to her face), was always on time for outings, took the lead on patrol, supported her on missions as best he could, and then some.

She hated it.

Completely despised the fact that they had to wear matching costumes, and suffered through every press conference. Aizawa would do all the talking anyway, he played the role so perfectly, and that pissed her off too, but she was more puzzled than anything.

Worst of all were the intricate details.

The fact that even when they were patrolling they had to be together. She’d had to relocate, which was way over the line. Yet once again, he never seemed to mind any of it, not the chaste kisses for cameras nor a hovering hand at her waist. Although he never said anything on patrols anyway, spare a well-times dry remark to a villain’s hubris or to her own. Maybe all of that was because he never had to pull any of the weight; in fact, none of his tactics even changed, he technically did less work as a support hero, she took all the damage. At the end of the day, only Aizawa’s ranking rose to her chagrin.

As an established pro, he wasn’t even stuck the way she was. According to her publicity team, all she was to Aizawa was arm candy, a pretty young face to soften his image, make him more appealing to young women, and get him just a little higher on the radar. To the general public, she was barely on the radar. Until her team up with Eraserhead, the biggest villain she ever brought in was a convenience store thief, the rest being reckless drivers or vengeful neighbors.

She owed her 28th spot, her pay raise, her street credit, all of it to his agency, to him. Period. And so worst of all, without him, she didn’t even exist.

She went to school to become a hero, not a housewife. It was just all so dehumanizing, and he just went with it, as if it didn’t matter, as if he didn’t care.

Just how could he enjoy an arrangement like theirs? Being forced to act a certain way, a puppet of the public, and feel things you didn’t, like and for what? The pay? The duty?

She never counted all the nights she lay awake in bed, assuming they would sum to infinity, imagining what he just had to be imagining: hanging up her cape beside his scarf, brewing one last cup of coffee before they went to the same bed, waking up and doing it all over again!

“You’re lucky I love you,” she managed as he made his way to the kitchen.

He knew there was no further meaning behind the words, of course there wasn’t. Not to mention the bitter edge to her sentiment; her tone definitely indicated that the words were empty.

Ever since she had breezed into his office, curtly introducing herself by her real name, demanding he do the same and, and proclaiming that all she wanted was a top 25 spot, she occupied his every thought. He knew she’d tear the contract to shreds once she’d met her goals, and still he not once tried to stop himself from falling for her, in fact, he’d enabled it.

He started with courteous reminders to file her paperwork, neatly folded notes tucked into the edge of her computer screen signed with: Unprofessionally, Aizawa-san. Then he’d given her some contacts: good support companies and trustworthy agents. He would walk her to the station after work, never saying too much, and often he’d praise the small changes she’d made to their costumes to give them each their own look while still being complementary. On the tougher days, when neither of them could make it in time, he would take her home himself and stay just a few more minutes with her, hovering in the foyer of her apartment to make sure she’d be alright, and then he’d wait on her terrace until he saw she was sound asleep before returning home.

On patrols, he let her take the lead, her stubbornness taking the front and instincts driving her onwards, while he kept a clear head and a sharp eye as he brought up the rear. Things went the same during an altercation too, he did his part so she could do hers. He gave her all the credit, all the commissions, it was the least he could do. He thought the arrangement worked well, but he could sense how much she hated their situation, and in turn, how much she absolutely loathed him.

As Aizawa retrieved his first aid kit, he glanced back at the heroine he’d set atop the kitchen counter: resilient, stubborn, and beautiful like no other he’d worked with before, even as she lay dying on his kitchen counter. From the looks of her, even Recovery Girl would have met her match. He could feel anguish creeping in, his heart breaking more and more as seconds passed on while he realized his worst fears would come true in mere moments. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering even if he tried, and even if he wanted to, it would be no use. He unwound his scarf from his neck, huffing through his nose and telling her that nothing else would be a suitable tourniquet.

All she heard was screeching ringing in her ears accompanied by her own blood whooshing as her head pounded. She let her head drop to nod, and found herself caught in his binding cloth as he wrapped tightly around her middle over the gash.

“I know you probably can’t speak right now, best not to try.” His voice was a low hum, somewhere between a sound and a song. “Please. Do try to keep your eyes open. Keep your eyes open and I’ll take care of everything else.”

I’ll take care of everything else.

I’ll take care of everything else.

I’ll take care of everything else.

“You always take care of me, Shou,” she had wanted to say. She had wanted to thank him too, ask him why he cared so much knowing that she didn’t, but as he predicted, the sounds never formed. Only a strangled cry left her lips as he popped a few of her fingers back into place.

“I can’t fix the break, but hopefully now that those are in place you feel a bit better. . .”

To him, it would never matter whether or not she felt the same, he was just happy to help; taking care of her gave him something to do outside of work besides sleep. It felt good, to care about something, someone, as if his life finally had a purpose.

Aizawa nearly drew blood from his lip when he heard her whine as he placed his hands against her belly.

“Still with me?”

“Shou.”

He nodded, shaking his hair out of the way before warning her he was about to start stitching.

He loved her so much he hated her. He hated how stubborn she was, how she insisted on doing so much, how she just had to go out by herself and get hurt like this! He was hurt now just as much, even more! So why couldn’t she see that? Why couldn’t she just let him take care of her? Why couldn’t she just let him love her? He knew that if she did, he would be so good for her: the best of husbands, the best of men, her everything, her hero.

If he was a better man, someone chivalrous with honest morals who deserved a woman like her, he would have patched her up, let her rest and continued to suffer in silence and so on for the rest of his life.

Aizawa Shouta was no such man, and so, in all of his laziness and self-righteousness, he sacrificed his ego and pride as the tears finally flowed forth onto his handiwork, and he sobbed:

“I love you!”

A loud gasp moved through her entirety, and her muscles, up to her eyes, regained their higher functioning. Those beautiful, stern eyes opened wide in what seemed to be a pleasant realization. He watched an understanding wash across her features and peace blanket her being. Her breathing was steady for a moment, the faintest hint of a smile twitching on her chapped lips. Her small hands weakly tugged at the shirt on his back, and he could only cry harder, nodding, insisting she rest but she shook her head.

“I know.”

“Shhh, shhh, shhh. That’s enough for now,” he scolded with a small laugh.

She nodded, closing her eyes once more, and taking in one last deep breath to be let out in a peaceful sigh with a smile of her own.

He clenched his teeth. Everything hurt. He felt a terrible pang inside of him, what surely must have been his heart bursting when he hopelessly told her how he felt.

The air hung heavy around them. He wallowed in the silence, his chest heaving as if to compensate for her shallow, gargled breaths that broke into the room no more than five times a minute. Once more, with more passion than he’d ever expressed in his life, he told her:

“I love you!”

At the second proclamation, there was no response. He let out a breath, and then it hit him. He said her name. Once. Nothing. Twice. The same. He could hear his heart racing in his ears when he shook her. She was gone and his hatred returned.

He was careful to set her down on the kitchen floor, stretching quickly before assuming the position above her and beginning a futile attempt at resuscitation, chanting the confession til it became his only thought, and only then did he look at her.

Her head had fallen to the side. Her skin was coated in a sheet of sweat. He moved up her body, lifting her from under her arms closer to him, but even then her head stayed lolling from side to side as her eyelids only fluttered in response to the cries of her name.

“I hate you!” he told her corpse. “If you do this, I hate you!”

He felt rage envelop his heart, felt it course through his arteries, his now boiling hot blood fueling his muscles start again, this time to push harder, harder than he’d ever fought, even harder when he felt her sternum snap, his eyes glowing red and a tornado of black swirling around him. It didn’t matter if his vision was obstructed, there was no enemy in sight, and even he knew he couldn’t nullify Death.

He hated her. He hated how she made him feel, how he’d given her everything in so few words yet nothing at all in reality, hated how he never got to show her all he wanted: how he never would. He hated her so much. He hated knowing he could never hate her, not even if she died on him, and that was the very last thing that crossed her mind when she did.

That and the hope that she hadn’t disappointed him.

oh my god…

absolut. | midoriya izuku x uraraka ochako x reader x bakugo katsuki | bnha

warnings: 18+! college au, orgy, cucking (kinda), alcohol consumption, dubcon (bc of the alcohol), oral, vaginal sex, anal (and other butt stuff), cum eating, double penetration, fluff

word count: 7.3k

a/n: i have been working on this for a long time @ writers who write fast pls show me your ways so im stoked to share this piece of filth with you! hope you enjoy! big thanks to my wife @rat-suki for loving deku and @bakatenshii & @blahkugo for screaming about it with me on discord ♡︎

“Hey,” Ochako whispers, nudging you with an elbow. “Wanna hear a secret?”

You glance up at your lecturer, standing blandly up at the podium, waffling on about some quantitative study he participated in as a student, and sink down in your chair, leaning towards her. “Always,” you grin.

She mirrors you, shuffling closer, cheeks pink, lower lip taught between her teeth. “Deku and I are fuck buddies, ” she whispers in your ear, her crass wording and heady tone heating your face.

“What?” Is all you can whisper back, blinking owlishly at her.

“Yeah, for two months now.” She’s clearly thinking about him, eyes glassed over, dreamy grin on her face as she tucks some hair behind her ear. “Sometimes we meet between classes and do it in the third floor unisex bathroom.”

“Ocha—“ you almost gasp, glancing this way and that to make sure you haven’t garnered any unwanted attention. “Are you insane? If you get caught, you’re gonna be—“

“Shh, it’s okay, we’re really careful.” Her hand falls to your knee, slowly drags up to the hem of your jean shorts.

Your heart races.

You send her— your closest friend since attending University— a sideways glance, and she squeezes your flesh, sending a wave of unease and excitement up your spine.

She leans close then, strawberry glossed lips ghosting your ear. “Wanna join?”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You must be mad.

Insane.

Out of your mind.

Because why else would you be following Ochako to a hotel, overnight bag packed, assignments long forgotten on your laptop back at the dorm?

Her fingers— interlocked with your own— squeeze your hand, and she smiles brightly at you, silently calming the ricochet of your heart behind your rib cage as you walk through the foyer of the hotel, beelining it straight for the elevator.

“Floor 14,” she says to herself as you settle towards the back of the space, her fingertip illuminating the number bright red on the keypad. “You’re super nervous, huh?” She smiles, turning to face you.

“I mean… yes.” You glance away from her, eyes on your yellow vans. “Also, it’s not... weird for you? Aren’t you in love with him?”

She taps her chin, leans on the adjacent wall. “Yeah, but… we both have certain fantasies that can’t be fulfilled with just the two of us.”

Your heart thuds as the elevator dings, doors sliding open to an empty hallway, mirror on the wall, fake plants on the buffet below it. Ochako grabs your hand again, presses her lips to your cheek.

“You can just watch if you’re too nervous.” She whispers. “It’s just me and Deku.” Her words are comforting, and you find yourself following along with her as she checks her phone, scrolling through her exchange with him for the room number.

Each step down the hall intensifies your anxiety, the anticipation weighing on your lungs like the up, up, up of a roller coaster— what’s it gonna feel like when you’re falling?

“Here.” She beams, sliding her phone into her pocket and squeezing your hand again. “Ready?” She asks, auburn eyes shining in excitement.

Words fail you, but you smile tightly, give her a short nod, then she’s knocking on the door. Seconds later, it opens a little, Deku’s emerald eyes softening at the sight of Ochako, widening exponentially at the sight of you.

Like your arrival is a surprise, or something.

“I brought her,” Ochako smiles, pulling you close and wrapping her arms around you, smushing her cheek against your own affectionately.

“But,” comes Deku’s voice, his head turning to glance over his shoulder. He keeps the door closed, not making room for the two of you to enter. “I thought I was bringing the plus one?” His voice is hushed, a light blush dusting beneath his freckles.

It gets quiet then. Too quiet.

“I’ll go home—“ you start, pulling away from your friend, confused and embarrassed and completely out of place.

“What? No, stay!” Ochako pleads, holding you tightly, frown falling on Deku. “You said I could choose!” She says a little too loud, then in an instant, Deku’s flustered. “Yeah, but you said you didn’t trust anyone enough— Ah, just come in.” He opens the door then, and you see why he’s hesitant to show the two of you what’s on the other side of it.

Bakugo Katsuki, the quarterback with the 4.0 gpa, is leaning on the back of the sofa, crimson glare widening at the sight of you both entering the room.

“Bakugo?” Ochako gawks, pulling you in behind her so Deku can shut the door.

“He’s the one person I trust with my life.” Deku mumbles, sliding a hand around her waist, nuzzling his nose in the crook of her neck.

“You said pink cheeks,” Bakugo sneers, eyes fixed on you. “Didn’t say anything about the frightened rabbit.”

“I can’t believe— out of all of your friends— you’d bring Bakugo in on this—“ Ochako nudges away from Deku, eyes falling on you. “You okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, peachy.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, just— just gimme a sec.” She kisses your hand, then drops it, grabs Deku’s shirt, and leads him past Bakugo. “Let’s go talk on the balcony.”

The glass doors slide shut and the air in the room thickens. You stare at your feet— doing your best not to make eye contact with Bakugo— and focus on breathing steadily, trying to calm the thump of your heart.

“At least sit down.” The blonde says, making you jump a little.

He’s not overly fond of your reaction.

“Tch, come on, I’m in the same boat as you; think I wanna fuck a chick that looks at me the way she did? I thought she knew I was coming.” He pushes away from the couch and squats at the mini bar. You watch him, the way his shirt clings to the prominent muscles along his back, his broad shoulders. “Vodka?” He asks, not looking at you.

“Huh?” You reply slowly, earning an eye roll from the quarterback.

“Just take this, dumbass.” He says, holding up a little bottle for you, shaking it in the air. You drop your bag and hurry to take it— not wanting to irritate him further—then eye off the 1.7 ounce bottle.

Absolut Vodka.

“You should drink it,” he stands, cracks open a little honey-coloured bottle for himself. “If they’re voting someone off the island, it’s not gonna be you, and you look nervous as fuck.” He takes a mouthful and winces. “You sure you came here for a threesome?”

“You act like it’s a crime to be nervous.” You mumble, twisting the tiny silver lid until it snaps off, eyes meeting his in a nervous glance.

“Yeah but if you’re stuck between pink cheeks and shitty Deku, there’s not much to be scared of, is there?” He eyes you off, takes another sip from the bottle.

You mirror him, downing half of the little bottle, your pride helping you suppress the need to cough your guts up; your eyes water, and he smirks.

“You were at her Halloween party last year, the pink playboy bunny, right?” He says, eyes dropping to your thighs, then back up to your face.

You’re about to reply when the doors slide back open. “Alright, fine,” Ochako sighs, stopping in her tracks when she’s sees the two of you standing less than five feet apart, conversing. Large hands slide down her arms, and Deku rests his chin on her head, wrapping his arms around her middle.

Her face flushes.

“I, uh,” you speak up, taking a breath as you glance between the lovers, Bakugo’s eyes boring holes into the side of your head. “I’ll leave if I’m intruding. I’m super nervous and inexperienced, and I’d hate to like, uh, slow down your night with my fumbling, or something.”

Ochako gasps. “What? No—“

“Pussy trumps cock, no matter how experienced the user of the cock is.” Bakugo finishes his little bottle, screws the lid back on. “I’ll go.”

“Wait, Kacchan, no, stop. No ones going.” Deku laughs, pressing a kiss to Ochako’s hair, and stepping around her. “The more, the merrier, right?” He beams, winking at you as he passes, swinging open the door of the bar fridge.

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re comfortable, I feel like I can cross a lot off my bucket list with you both here.” Ochako smiles— mostly at you— as she unzips her jacket, shrugging it off and tossing it over the back of the couch. “Are you okay with that?”

You take a deep breath and down the rest of the bottle, but before you can say anything, it’s pinched from your hand, and replaced with another. “Go make yourself comfortable on the sofa.” Deku smiles warmly, hands pressing into you, ushering you towards your best friend.

“Take this off,” she giggles, tugging at your hoodie.

“What? It’s cold in here!” You object with nervous laughter, remembering the teeny tiny tank top you’ve got tucked into your shorts. Still, she manages to wrestle it from your head, her eyes falling to your cleavage, bulging a little at the sight.

“Why are you always wearing baggy clothes when you look like this?” She pushes you to the sofa, straddles you and presses her forehead to yours. “You can leave if you want, but I’d really like you to stay.” She whispers, breath hot on your ear. “What do you wanna do?”

Your eyes flicker over to the boys— both watching, though they’re pretending not to—before you’re looking back at Ochako, large eyes pleading with you to stay.

Which is what you’d psyched yourself up for, until you’d seen the extra.

Why the hell is Bakugo’s inclusion making you so damn nervous?

“I’ll watch for a bit and see,” you mumble, your whole body almost vibrating in embarrassment, the anxiety and anticipation from earlier curling up your spine, settling in your throat.

“Yay!” Ochako cheers, and seconds later she’s hoisted from you, giggling like crazy as Deku throws her onto the bed and crawls over her, ravishing her in kisses.

You watch as he pulls her shirt up, licking and kissing at her stomach, trailing down, down, down—

Embarrassed, you glance away, find Bakugo’s eyes are already on you. You look down to your knees, feel his eyes on you for a moment longer, before he looks back to the lovers on the bed.

Ochako’s clothes start hitting the floor, her moans of pleasure filling the space; you watch on in silence— thighs pressed together and lip between your teeth— suppressing the urge to rub yourself over your shorts or run away.

Deku’s got her legs over his shoulders, his mouth on her pussy, and she’s doing her best to muffle her moans— her fingers stuffed in her mouth. He’s eating her out like it’s the last meal he’s gonna have, and when he slips two fingers into her wet cunt, her hips buck off the bed, both hands fisting in the sheets as she cums all over her fuck-buddy’s face.

A tiny gasp escapes your lips and the anxiety you were feeling slowly peels away. Is it because sometime before her orgasm you downed the other bottle of Absolut? Or because you want that? You want to be pinned down and ravaged until you’re shaking and crying; you wanna finally understand what it feels like to be completely undone at the hands of someone else.

Deku sits up, tears off his shirt and wipes his face with it, looking over at Bakugo. “Told ya she squirts.” He grins boyishly, throwing the shirt at him. “You okay?” He asks, turning to you, his face flushed with excitement.

You nod shyly as he sits up on his knees, works his pants down his thick thighs, eyes still on you.

“Don’t look at her like that, dumbass.” Bakugo spits, tearing his shirt over his head and pushing his jeans down his legs. “She’s clearly a virgin; don’t go pressuring her to do something she’s not ready for.” The way his eyes narrow say he’s baiting you, that he wants you to bite back and dive into bed with them, but you’re not quite there yet, so you just look down at your lap, pretend you don’t notice.

“B-be nice, Bakugo.” Ochako’s practically winded from her orgasm, glaring at him as she perches up on her elbows. “She’s not a virgin, and she’d probably be on the bed with us already if you weren’t here.”

“Right, so you want me gone, huh?” He asks sarcastically, rubbing his length through his briefs.

Shit, you need another drink.

“You’re only needed for like two or three things, then you’re free to go.” She sasses, poking her tongue at him.

“Is one of those things my dick in your mouth while your boyfriend fucks your greedy little hole?” He asks, cocky grin spreading across his face.

Fuck.

You want him to fuck your greedy little hole.

You get up and brush past him to the mini bar, taking out another Absolut, and downing it right there. “Alright, I’m ready.” You hiss, pulling your tank top out of your jean shorts and tugging it over your head. “Where do you want me?”

“Jesus, are you sure you don’t want one more?” Bakugo chuckles, watching as you slide your shorts down your thighs, leaving your underwear on.

“Really?” Ochako asks, sitting up.

“I’ve always wanted two hot girls to suck me off at the same time.” Deku says, eyes firmly on you. “If you’re up for it?” He slides off the bed and pushes the rest of his clothes off, steps out of them, weeping cock slapping against his abdomen with a wet smack.

“It’ll probably be a little easier if you’re sitting on the bed, Izu.” Ochako smiles, eyes glancing over to you, then back to him. “I’ve always wanted to try it too, actually.”

Deku says something else to her then, but you’re distracted by the man standing next to you. The famous footy player, the brains and the brawn, all corded muscle and tanned skin, his eyes drinking you in, despite him coming here to rail Ochako.

“Looks like the virgin gets to join in first.” You poke your tongue at him, and Ochako chuckles.

“Yeah, virgin, okay.” She rolls her eyes, smiling brightly at Deku as he laughs with her.

“Compared to you! Meeting in the toilets for quickies.” You pout, crossing your arms.

“You told her?” Deku murmurs, ruffling her fringe from her face. He doesn’t seem mad, more… curious.

“What toilets?” Bakugo frowns, annoyed and left out.

“Ahh, well—“

“Third floor, they’re barely used.” Ochako follows her lover with her eyes as he sits against the bed head, then she crawls up to sit obediently between his spread legs. They look so natural together, eye each other so trustingly. Are they really just sex friends? “Wow, Izu, it’s so hard.” She breathes, dainty fingers wrapping the meaty girth of his cock, pumping it loosely.

“Come on, I won’t bite,” Deku holds a hand out for you to take, smiling gently. Your worries bubble away as you slowly breathe out and look into his darkened emerald eyes, knees hitting the bed as you lean forward to place your fingers in his hand.

With more strength than you thought he had, he pulls you close, clothed breasts hitting his freckled chest, thick, veiny, scarred arm wrapping around your waist, his free hand tilting your chin up so you look him in the eye.

“Stop staring at her, Izu,” Ochako whispers, her fingertips dragging gently across your tummy before she hugs you, her lips pressing to your cheek.

“Kiss her properly,” he urges you, eyes half-lidded, tongue snaking out to wet his sex-bruised lips.

Her mouth is like nothing you’ve ever felt on your own: soft, plump, sensual. The kiss is slow— a deliberate show of lips and spit— special, just for Deku. Surprisingly, you’re the first to slide your tongue into her mouth, hungry for more, begging her to reciprocate, to help soothe the need quickly bleeding into your belly.

“Shit, Kacchan, c’mere,” Deku urges, and the bed dips behind you. “Show him, too.” He says, pressing a kiss to Ochako’s cheek, running calloused fingers up your back. Your hands rest on her thighs, hers on your waist, and you barely register Deku unclasp your bra, before he’s tugging it gently down your arms.

Ochako moans then, hands sliding up to cup at your tits, the kiss deepening, her teeth scraping your lower lip as you gasp, her little fingers tweaking and rolling your nipples

“Fuck,” Bakugo rasps, your watery eyes gazing over at him. He rubs at his briefs, eyes glued to Ochako’s hands as they fondle you, a sense of power blooming within you at the look on his usually snarling face.

“Yeah, fuck,” Deku agrees, taking your chin in two fingers and pulling you towards him, pressing his lips to yours as he guides his girlfriend down to his dripping cock. His mouth is bitter with the taste of Ochako, but you suck his tongue when he loses it into your mouth regardless, desperate for more. He draws away from you, thumb pulling your lower lip down, baring your teeth to him. “Wanna use these pretty lips on my cock?” He asks, eyes on your mouth as he manipulates your flesh some more.

You just nod, gaze half-lidded, and his face breaks into a smile, large hand petting you as you slide down his toned body until you’re eye-to-eye with your best friend, eyes glued to her as she licks wet stripes up and down his thick cock.

It’s not the first cock you’ve sucked, but it’s definitely the girthiest; head an angry shade of purple, shaft littered with a light dusting of freckles, like the rest of him.

“Lick him with me,” Ochako whispers, linking fingers with you, before taking his head in her mouth. Your pussy clenches at the groan he sighs, and you waste no more time, tongue poking out to test the feel of his shaft as you wriggle back a bit more to settle on your tummy.

“That’s…” Bakugo hisses, voice tight, seemingly unable to find the words to describe what he’s seeing happen to his best friend and rival, right in front of his eyes.

You lower your head, drooling all over his sack as Ochako deep throats him, before taking a ball into your mouth and marvelling at the choking sound he makes as his hips involuntary buck at the sensation. She pops off his cock and you share a smile, then you’re both sucking his shaft, tongues grazing and saliva mingling as he breathes heavily.

“It’s… God, it’s too much,” He breathes, straining voice a hiss as he watches you both, fists grabbing desperately at the sheets either side of his hips.

Thick fingers dip into the elastic of your underwear at your lower back, and your attention is diverted for a moment as you watch Bakugo stare hungrily at your ass as he pulls your panties down your thighs. “Focus.” He clips, slapping your cheek with a firm hand, before massaging the globes in his palms, fingers digging into the flesh.

“Ochako,” Deku huffs, a hand going to her hair. “I’m gonna cum,” he almost whines, dark eyes pleading with her for something unknown to you.

“Okay, it’s okay,” she hushes, pressing a finger to your lips. “Suck.” She orders with a grin. You obey immediately, a little confused as you swirl your tongue around the pad of her finger, until it’s taken from your mouth and pressed to the puckering hole beneath his heavy sack and your panties are tugged the rest of the way down your legs.

“M-my balls,” he begs, spurring you to run your tongue along them, give them attention as Ochako wriggles her finger into his ass and seals her lips over his tip. He heaves another groaning sigh, eyes unable to stray away from the two of you, a rippling shudder tearing through him as you suck the other ball into your mouth.

Bakugo traces a finger up the lips of your sex, your back going rigid as you moan and press back against him, your mouth still full, nails digging into the flesh of Deku’s thighs. He says something you can’t comprehend, then Deku’s tensing, his balls contracting, Ochako squeezing her eyes shut as he blows his load down her throat.

Before you can do anything else, your tugged backwards by the hips, ass flush with Bakugo’s clothed cock as he ruts against you, teasing you with his length. You can’t help the butterflies that swirl in your stomach as you glance back at him— football superstar Bakugo Katsuki—his eyes blown wide with lust as he looks at you.

You.

“No way,” Ochako warns, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, glassy eyes on Bakugo. “It’s not your turn yet, extra.” She snips.

“You came, he came,” he grabs your arm and pulls your body up, your back flush with his chest. “It’s only fair that one of us is next.” Both of his hands play with your nipples, lips coming to your neck, teeth dragging across your pulse point, making you shudder.

“Yeah, her.” She says, eyes betraying her heated tone as she watches Bakugo’s fingers tweak at your nipples, your hands reaching behind you to grips at his briefs for some semblance of balance.

“That was amazing,” Deku smiles, chest flushed with heat, gleam in his eye. “What’s next?”

Your head is spinning, mind going numb as Bakugo sucks and licks at your skin, eyes screwing shut and head falling back onto his shoulder as his fingers trail down your front, inching closer and closer to your sweet spot, your heart thundering in your ears.

“Fuck me,” you hear Ochako say— probably to Deku, considering the tone of her voice— but you feel her dainty hands on your thighs, eyes snapping open to see her lips wrap around one of your nipples.

“Ocha—” you squeak, but she sends you a heated look, sucks and licks feverishly at your chest. Bakugo’s chest rumbles against your back in a growl, cock grinds between your cheeks, hands holding you by the hips, keeping you still, long fingers positively bruising.

“Lay her down,” Ochako says to him, taffy eyes glaring past you to look at him, before her focus softens on you. “I’m gonna lick your pussy while Izu fucks me. Is that okay?”

“Ah, yeah,” you nod, embarrassed even considering the events that have already unfolded. Ochako squeaks in delight and turns to relay the information to Deku, and you’re sinking down onto your ass, kicking your legs out as Bakugo does the same behind you; his broad chest a wall for you to lean against.

“Bout to get eaten out by your best friend,” he whispers in your ear, heated and cocky. “How’s that feel?”

Your face burns, “if I weren’t here, it woulda been you with Izuku’s balls in your mouth.” You do your best to snap back, but your voice is hoarse, hands resting on his as he runs them up your thighs and spreads your legs apart.

“Fat chance,” he snorts, chuckling as he rests his chin on your shoulder, eyes wandering down your exposed skin greedily.

“Kinda glad we messed up, huh baby?” Deku grins, kissing at Ochako’s neck before she can fall into position between your legs.

She replies something breathy, but you’re too caught up in Bakugo: his fingers on your thighs, thumbs grazing the sensitive skin at your hip dips, then inwards, dangerously close to the sensitive lips of your sex as Ochako watches intently.

Then her soft fingers are drawing up your legs, and your eyes shoot down to hers, your breath catching in your throat.

“You can back out,” she says gently, giving you one last chance to bolt. But Deku catches your eye, on his ass behind her, watching with baited breath as she crawls up to you, and you can feel Bakugo’s body ready and waiting behind you.

And it makes you feel powerful.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” You ask, tossing the proverbial ball into her court.

“To be honest? I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” she bats her lashes up at you and your breath hitches, her petal lips kissing the inside of your knee as she closes in on you, as she slides up so close you can feel her cool breath on the heated skin by your folds.

“Fuck,” slips from Bakugo’s lips, his hands sliding up to slowly squeeze your breasts as Ochako’s fingers toy with your outer labia, her tongue peeking from between pink lips as she surveys your sex like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.

“You’ve got a pretty pussy,” she grins, licking her lips. You’re momentarily distracted when Deku starts pumping himself in his fist, eyes glued to the both of you, but seconds later that little tongue is licking a tentative stripe up your slit, and her manicured nails are digging into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh, my god…” you breathe, slamming your eyes shut, head falling back against Bakugo as you fight to keep your legs splayed. It tickles, she’s kitten licking you, lapping at your cunt as she explores it, curiosity out-weighting the need to get you off.

“Feel good?” Comes Bakugo’s rumbling voice. You open your eyes and glance sideways at him, annoyed that he knows you wanna beg for more, for harder, for faster. “Tell her what you need,” he urges.

“I-I’m gonna put it in,” Deku stammers, your attention flying back to him, to the angry blush on his face and chest, the way his hand sprawls Ochako’s lower back as he pumps himself with the other.

“I thought it’d taste weird,” she blinks up at you, “but you taste good—”

“Oh my god, Ochako, please—” you begin, mortified, only for her to press her open mouth against you and start tonguing at your entrance, your plea rising into a longing moan as pleasure rockets through your veins. Your eyes roll and you slam a hand to your mouth, only to have it torn away and pinned to your thigh by one of Bakugo’s, his other hand tilting your face towards him, his tongue snaking into your mouth.

Then Ochako’s moaning, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine as the sensation of two tongues inside you at the same time has you both tensing and melting simultaneously. Ochako’s nails grind into your skin as your toes flex, and you vaguely begin to hear Deku’s slow grunts, feel the rhythmic pressing of her face against your cunt as she’s fucked into you.

Your arms move to loop around Bakugo’s neck, but he’s inching away from you, taking your hands in his and laying you down as he slides off the bed, tugging you so your head is hanging off the edge a little. One of his hands leaves yours and he’s thumbing at your mouth, drawing saliva from your bottom lip and spreading it around, eyes half-lidded.

You know what he wants; you can see how hard he is, even upside down. His thumb slips into your mouth and you suck on it, tongue lathing lazily, your free hand reaching his briefs and palming him to the same rhythm as your tongue on his thumb. A taste of what’s to come.

“Yeah?” Ruby eyes stare down at you, and he takes his thumb back, poising to rid himself of his underwear.

“Mmm,” you mumble back, licking your lips, throwing your head back further and opening your jaw to him, giving him easier access to your throat.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hastily dropping his dacks, long, thick cock bobbing free, pumping it slowly with his strong fingers. “So fucking sexy,”

You just laugh in return, reaching for his hips as he closes in on you, as he rubs that smooth, spongey head of his cock across your smiling lips. Your tongue snakes out to taste him— salty, bitter, all man— and you purr, nails digging into his ass, as he slowly slides in.

Ochako’s tongue slips out of your cunt and she purses her lips around your clit, your whole body tensing just as his thick— shit, so thick— cock hits the back of your throat, a needy whine unable to escape your chest.

“G-god,” comes from Deku’s mouth, “put your… f-fingers inside her, baby,” he pants between breathy moans. “M-make her cum.”

“S-slower, Izu—“ she groans back, finally giving your pussy a break, head bobbing up before resting on your heated thigh. “‘m s-so close,”

“Ah, hold out, pink cheeks,” Bakugo grunts, thick fingers bracing himself under your jaw, his thumbs behind your ears. “You’re the one who said it was her turn; make true on that, huh?”

“You’re such a—“

Another squeal lodges in your throat when her face is pushed— hard— against your pussy, bitter laughter flowing from Bakugo’s lips, and a needy, drawn out whine, pulling from Deku’s.

“‘ts it, baby,” Deku grinds out, voice gravelly as she starts to work your cunt again, tongue thick and sloppy against your core. “G-god you look so sexy eating her out. R-right Kacchan?”

“Shut up, Deku, f-fuck—“ Bakugo hisses, going deep— too deep— his heavy balls slapping against your nose, your forehead; tears escape the corners of your eyes, travel down your forehead and get lost in your hairline.

Ochako breaks away from you again, a high-pitched whine sliding from her lips, “c-cumming!” And she’s collapsing against your leg again, her heaving breaths filling the room along with Bakugo’s grunts.

But then she’s moving—you can’t see shit— and she’s either recovered, or that’s Deku’s mouth tonguing your cunt, his thick fingers working their way into your sloppy little hole, wriggling around until you—

“Mmmph!” you tense up, and Bakugo eases up on the face-fucking, slides out of you and slaps his heavy cock against your cheek. “N-no, if you do th-that—“ you whine desperately, propping yourself up on your elbows and staring helplessly down at Deku, who’s fingers are moving inhumanly quick, green eyes staring up at you as his mouth finds your clit.

Bakugo swallows your sob with his lips, his hands smoothing hair from your face as he kneels next to you on the bed, probably trying to distract you from the magic Deku’s working between your legs.

“B-Bakugo, I’m—’m gonna—“ you reach for him, tears in your eyes as Deku kisses your skin; your stomach, your ribs, a nipple’s sucked into his mouth.

“Get back down there,” Bakugo grunts, pushing at his mop of green hair, but you’re wriggling out of the blonde’s grasp, thighs clamping around Deku’s wrist as your orgasm slams into you, back arching, heels of your hands pressing into your eyes as you moan and gasp, waves of ecstasy rolling through your bones.

“You fuckwit!” Bakugo hisses, white-knuckling the sheets, glare fixed on Deku.

“Aw, c’mon, Kaachan, she can go more than once,” Deku laughs from above you, taking your shaky wrists in his big hands. “You okay?” He asks, voice soft, soothing, calming.

“I,” you start, nodding, wiping tears from your face, “y-yeah,”

“Yeah? Move.” Bakugo growls, barreling into Deku, pushing him—laughing— off of you, so Bakugo can man-handle you, picking you up and walking backwards to the couch, sitting down and helping you straddle him.

“Izu, ‘m tired,” comes a groggy moan from Ochako; Deku soothes her with some shushing and soft mouth noises, but Bakugo doesn’t let you rest.

“Shitty fucking Deku,” he mumbles, fisting his cock in his hand, “you want a real orgasm?” He asks, pulling you out of your post-orgasmic haze, laughter bubbling up your throat.

“I’m pretty sure I just had one?” You lean towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you slide your body closer to his—breasts to chest—a smile growing on your face as you register the blush dusting his, his little pout. “I bet,” you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, “that you wanna cum, hm?”

A guttural groan slides from his throat when you lean back and your smaller hand wraps around his; then you’re guiding the angry tip of his cock towards your sex, sliding it against your slippery folds as you raise your hips, tongue wetting your lips.

“Hurry up,” he huffs, jutting his hips up, far too impatient for his own good.

“Just be happy I’m letting you do me raw, footy jerk,” you snip, before the head of his cock catches against your hole and you begin to lower your hips, gasping and gnawing at your bottom lip as he slowly stretches you open.

You’re almost flush with his thighs when hands ghost over your ass and lips press to the back of your neck. Your head reels around to meet green eyes, before shooting to the bed and surveying your best friend’s sleeping form, her head on the pillow, blanket draped over her naked body.

“What are you doing?” You whisper as his hands wander, his lips quirking into a grin.

“She’s asleep, it’s fine,” he assures you, adding: “we’re not technically dating, so don’t worry.”

“Deku, if you fuck this up for me, I’m shoving your stupid fucking head down the toilet,” Bakugo growls, pulling you back against his chest, one hand fisting your hair, the other hovering protectively over your back as he thrusts the rest of his dick up into your cunt.

You yelp—feeling far too full— but Deku just laughs at his childhood friend’s inability to share, “I just want to play with her ass, Kacchan; ‘s that okay?”

“God, I— I don’t wanna hear your fucking voice,” he snaps, tugging your head back by your hair and crashing his lips to yours, swallowing your wanton moans and cries as he takes over the sliver of control you had being on top, and thrusts up into you.

It’s dizzying, intoxicating. Bakugo’s hands are rough and forceful, his cock still stretching you, the ridges and veins touching parts of you that have never been so stimulated, his tongue bullying yours in the best way. Then Deku reminds you he’s there, wet finger prodding at your asshole, rubbing around your rim gently, slowly— so very slowly— pressing the tip in, breaching the tight ring of muscle.

“So… damn tight,” he breathes, lips tickling your ear as Bakugo throws his head back against the sofa with a needy whine.

“I can,” he gasps, red eyes glaring past you to where Deku’s breathing on your neck. “I can feel your fucking finger,”

“Is it good?” He asks, wriggling what feels like another finger— slick with something slimier than spit— into your ass.

“Ahn… T-too much—“ you gasp, nails digging into Bakugo’s shoulders, clawing into his back as you struggle to get closer to him, trying to escape the intrusion behind you.

But Bakugo’s laughing, his hands groping and spreading your asscheeks, slowing the heavy snap of his hips as Deku writhes his fingers, before he adds a third.

“N-no…” you whine, Bakugo attacking your neck with warm, wet kisses and slow, deliberate bites that are surely gonna show for days after this. “Oh— oh my god, please...” You sob, both men halting their actions to soothe you with gentler kisses, softer, more tender.

“Can—“ Deku starts, takes a deep breath against the shell of your ear. “Can I fuck your ass?”

For some reason, you look to Bakugo for the green light, eyes wide, brows tented in a silent plea.

“Be fucking gentle,” the blonde hisses at his friend. “Don’t think I won’t punch you in your shitty fucking face.”

“Okay,” Deku breathes, beginning to thrust his fingers again, “alright…” he mumbles, stretching you out. “It’s okay, I’ll b-be gentle,” he whispers, voice going even lower as he mutters soft words against your spine, sending goose flesh across your skin. “Kacchan, I— I can feel your dick inside her,” he adds, voice wavering.

“Fuck,”

“B-Bakugo,” you almost sob— still warming his cock— overcome with the need to cum, your orgasm so close it hurts, Deku’s thick digits stuffing you full. “Y-you gotta fuck me… f-fast,” you plead, squirming in his hands, rocking your hips best you can with Deku’s fingers in your ass. “Wanna cum…”

“I think she’s ready,” Deku groans, slipping his fingers out, before sliding them back in, giving the three digits a twist. “Can you feel that, Kacchan?”

You gasp and cling to Bakugo as he takes his fingers out slowly and presses the plane of his chest to your back, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he breathes, kissing your shoulder, the back of your neck.

“Anal?”

“No,” he laughs at Bakugo’s question. “Chako and I do it all the ti—“

“Yeah, I don’t care?” The blonde cuts him off gruffly.

Deku chuckles, “you asked, though?”

“C-can— god, please do something!” You whine, frustration taking over, nails digging into Bakugo’s traps as you rock your hips, your mound grinding against his pubes.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Bakugo grunts, lifting your hips and slamming you back down, eliciting a yelp from your throat as his cockhead slams against your cervix. “Got a little distracted by this... asshat.”

“I’m gonna,” Deku breathes, rubbery cock sliding against your asshole. “Put it in..?” He asks, unsure.

“You want it?” Bakugo asks, lifting you back up, holding you in suspense.

“Huh? I,” you glance back at Deku, see him crouching behind you, thick cock poised to slide into you, his wide eyes begging you to say yes.

“You gotta tell him you want it,” Bakugo breathes, lips against your cheek.

Your whole body is ablaze and you’re embarrassed, turned on, and still a little tipsy. It’s a situation you never thought you’d be in, but there’s a gnawing in the back of your brain that’s begging you to tell him—

“Fuck me, Midoriya,” you whisper, before turning back to Bakugo and pressing your mouth to his, your hands grasping the sides of his face before pulling away, “d-distract me?”

But Deku’s already pushing, the thick cock you were servicing earlier sliding slowly into your empty hole, Bakugo hissing as he feels him entering, pressing against his cock, pressing it more snugly against your g-spot.

“Oh my god,” you’re whining breathlessly, clutching onto Bakugo for dear life, unsure if you really like the intrusion, if the numb, pain-like sensation is really gonna get you off.

“Shit, it’s— it’s too fucking tight,”

“Y-yeah, I don’t know if I’ll be able to move, Kacchan,”

“Just—“ Bakugo takes a hand off your ass, runs it up your side and gently caresses your breast. “If you keep tensing up, it’s gonna hurt all of us,” he knocks his forehead against yours, meets your eyes. “Got it?”

“It’s… weir— Ah!” You yelp, Deku forcing himself in all at once, knocking you into Bakugo, pressing you into him, Deku’s front flush with your back.

“Ah, shit,” Bakugo hisses, your arms wrapping around his neck. “I’ll pull out… then when I push back in,”

“I’ll pull out; got it.” Deku finishes.

And even though you heard the exchange, feeling it is a completely different story.

“Ahn—n-no, I— I can’t, I can’t, this is too much, I’m gonna die!” You garble as they move in tandem, your already heated body starting to grow slick with sweat— both yours and theirs.

But you don’t really want them to stop because you’ve never felt so full in your life, never felt so good in your life. You never thought you’d hear Bakugo Katsuki grunting in your ear as he helps keep you up on your knees, his teeth and tongue grazing your jawline, as he fucks your pussy; never thought you’d have Midoriya Izuku gripping your hips so hard, whiny mouth sucking marks into your skin as his cock stretches your ass.

It’s too much. It’s too much, but Bakugo still finds the need to snake his hand down between your bodies, still feels he’s gotta play your clit like a fine-tuned instrument.

Tears and drool slip down your face, then you’re howling as pure, white-hot bliss has your whole body tensing, both men groaning hoarsely as you contract around them, fingers digging into your skin as their thrusts grow harder, sloppier, faster, then stop completely.

Your body is boneless, your fucked-out form collapsing against Bakugo with a contented sigh as Deku falls back onto his ass, the room suddenly silent.

“Want a water, Kacchan?” Deku asks moments later, only to be met with an affirmative grunt.

Then you feel something dribble out of you, slide down your thigh, “who,” you frown, clearing your scratchy throat, wobbly arms pushing you off of Bakugo. “Who came inside me?”

Bakugo does his best at trying to conceal a grin, large hands resting on your hips lifting you, his softening cock slipping out of your pussy, followed by another dribble. “Uh, we both did.” He says, sending you a half-sorry look.

“Ugh,” you spit, collapsing against him again. “That’s so gross.”

“‘ts okay,” Deku says, closer, resting a bottle of water on your head, which Bakugo quickly snatches away. “I’ve got this.”

Your core clenches when you feel Deku’s tongue slide up your inner thigh and slurp up the cum, Bakugo’s knees spreading further apart to accommodate his friend’s size. He’s moaning, and you’re watching him over your shoulder, face furiously hot as he loses himself in your creampie, tongue scooping up as much as he can, swallowing it with a moan.

“M-Midoriya, I can shower,” you mumble, ridiculously embarrassed, as Bakugo’s hands spread you apart.

“You like eating cum, huh, Deku?” The blonde grins, watching his friend with morbid curiosity.

Green eyes blink up at the two of you, “ah, I just wanted to try it.” He shrugs, a finger sliding back into your ass, sending you rigid, before he adds another and starts to scoop the cum out, licking his fingers and circling back to your cunt, sucking and licking Bakugo’s seed up as well.

“Oh..” you moan, embarrassed by how slow and deliberate he is, how gentle even his fingers are.

But before Deku can finish what he started, Bakugo stands, lifting you with him, Deku’s fingers slipping out of you. “Let’s do this in the shower, we’re all sweaty and I’m feeling left out.”

“But I’m tired,” you whine, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, weightless in his thick, corded arms.

“I’m… uh,” Deku chuckles, smiles nervously at you when you meet his gaze. “I’m hard again.”

You gape, bleary-eyed, up at Bakugo, and he grins, “if this loser’s goin again, so am I.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

For some reason, doing the walk of shame with Bakugo is worse than doing it alone. Everytime you look at him, you’re reminded of how you acted, what you did, how you did it.

The pair of you bolted from the room when Ochako woke up and found you all sitting on the balcony playing Never-Have-I-Ever, a very drunk Deku announcing his undying love for her— but can he fuck you again?

She said she didn’t mind.

So now, you’re walking through the city with a guy you thought wouldn't be caught dead talking to you, nervous energy pouring out of you in waves as you’re reminded of what happened in the room. As you overthink the million different ways you can gracefully accept him turning you down.

“Do you, uh,” he clears his throat, looks down at his phone screen. “Do you like pancakes?”

You blink at him.

“I—I mean, shit, uh, do you—“ a heavy sigh, “it’s 2am, are you hungry?” He manages to say, unable to look you in the eye.

“Uh, yeah,” you nod, your eyes darting between his pouty face and your shoes. “I could eat.”

He smiles, but it’s fleeting, like he doesn’t want you to know he’s actually glad you’re taking him up on his offer. “Cool,” he nods slowly, stepping closer to you, gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips, then back to his shoes. “Uh, I know a place.”

You can’t control the way your face heats, or the grin that grows on your lips when you notice the faint dusting of pink across his features. “Cool,” you say back, thinking how ridiculously backwards this seems.

“Cool,” he repeats, nodding, shoving his hands in his pockets and leading the way.

By the king’s hand 🐍 II

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You attend king Loki’s coronation but the night ends precariously.

Note: I still don’t know what I’m doing. I’m tryna keep up but tbh I am gonna be working a lot so updates might be inconsistent for the time being.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

There were no windows in the dungeons. No time. No life.

Keep reading

By the king’s hand 🐍 I

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You attend king Loki’s coronation but the night ends precariously.

Note: I don’t know what I’m doing.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Come on!” Gilla latched onto your arm as she wove through the streets. The bodies around you were so many it was hard to move one way or the other. “Can’t see anything from here.”

Keep reading

pairing - dilf!bakugou x aquarium employee reader(f!reader) 

MINORS DNI

summary: smut, heavy comfort, FLUFF, when divorced dad/pro hero bakugou’s aquarium trip is ruined by intrusive fans, you offer to let them come back after hours so his daughter can see the belugas. 

a/n: daddy and daddy kink(I couldn’t help myself), bakugou’s daughter is an adorable menace, single dad bakugou has basically no idea how to flirt, reader is insecure a touch, TW for the song baby beluga, reader wasn’t close with her father, Bakugou is in his early thirties, reader in mid twenties. Bakugou’s still kinda mean in bed. Oldest sibling!reader so she got the mom instinct, and unpainted nails because of the touch tank at her job. also tw: for embarassing but i worked really hard on this so if you liked it pls interact.

wc: 8,192

part of me and @romancefiend​s aquarium collab masterlist here

Bakugou silences his phone in his pocket, trying to ignore it’s incessant buzzing. He only had this evening with his daughter before he’d have to bring her back to his ex, the last thing he wanted to do was answer some bullshit questions from his agent. It doesn’t help that everyone at the aquarium is staring, people taking the occasional not-so-subtle photograph. His daughter runs ahead of him, and he catches up in a few strides. 

“Sana,” He calls, “C’mere, sweetheart,” He takes her tiny hand in his, swallowing it completely as she turns to look at him, oblivious to the eyes on the two of them, but jumping at the soft camera clicks. 

“Dad,” She gasps, “Look at the BELUGAS!” She giggles with delight when one swims past and his heart swells painfully, watching the joy spark in her face then travel through her body as she does a little dance. She turns to him, “Did you SEE that?” He nods. “Where do they LIVE?” She screams the last word, attracting even more attention. Someone comes up behind him, nervously holding a notebook. 

“Um,” the young woman smiles at him, “Could you sign this for me, Dynamight?” He grunts, scribbling something on her paper. It’s like a dam breaks in the room, and suddenly there are three, five, ten, more people crowding him and Sana, and his first instinct is to tell them all to go to hell, but he remembers the clips of him losing his shit that they played at the custody hearing, and so instead he takes a deep breath and nods, acquiescing. Sana clings to his leg for a moment. 

“What do they want daddy,” She whines, and a few of them have the grace to look chagrined, “I wanna show you the whales!” 

“One second sweetheart,” He growls, forcing himself to keep his face neutral as these fucking extras shove pieces of paper into his hands. They move in closer, until his broad shoulders are flush against the cool glass, and he doesn’t immediately notice the lack of the tugging on his pants, the silence where usually a barrage of questions would be, but after about sixty seconds he looks down, and Sana is gone. All neutrality melts from his face, he whirls around, looking desperately. “Fuck off,” He snaps, jogging away from the people moving down the hallway. “Sana,” He calls, running down the tunnel where Manta rays float above your head, and past bright tropical fish, his heart pounds, could it have been a villain, how could he have let his fucking guard down like that-

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SUFFOCATING

Word count: 3,4K

+18 MINORS DNI

Wanings: Incest; Oral (female!receiving); Finger Fucking; Sister!Reader; Big brother!Toya Todoroki

Summary: How does it feel to have the love of your life being your own older brother.

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A Criminal’s Girl PT 11

WARNING: THIS STORY IS RATED M/MATURE!! FOR MATURE THEMES SUCH AS: Violence/gore, language, Smut, Abuse, sexual themes, toxic relationships, etc. 

NiragixShy! Reader

TAG LIST: 

@staytiny2018 ​ @armyhollander @phe2004 @chimknj @onebookabout

@fangirlontgeside @yixing-jaehyun @minahthexiaotuzi @lizx13 @lindsayjoy444 @imaniceperson14 @roo111 @crykillerqueen @f-a-d-e-d-r-e-p-u-t-a-t-i-o-n

@vintageangelz @lucillethings

Niragi wraps his arms around you and you couldn’t deny how comforting it was, despite he just killed dozens of people less than fifteen minutes ago. Your back and lower abdomen ached all over and you couldn’t help but scream as he picks you up in his arms. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get more pathetic….” He tsks, you could feel his lips at your hairline as he spoke. 

“You know what? Put me down! I don’t need your he-help!” You cry, even though you didn’t want him to. It wasn’t the babies fault, but you hated that he got you pregnant and that you’re so vulnerable to him. 

It was his baby too, and he knew that. Everyone including you knew that Niragi wasn’t stupid. You wouldn’t be surprised if Niragi wanted nothing to do with his baby if anything, he would see it more as an object. 

“Shut up, kitten. You know I won’t do that.” He says, as he calmly carries you down the hall. Gunshots were fired off in the distance all throughout the hotel. 

It felt like someone was stabbing at your pelvis with thousands of knives. You could feel your body starting to tremble from the pain. 

“Why not? Why not just kill me like everyone else?” 

Niragi laughs as he kicks open a door with his foot and carries you inside. You feel him lick up your cheek before he sets you down on the bed, surprising you by how gentle he was actually being. 

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Ignore this if you'd like, I was just brainstorming for one of my own stories when Niragi decided to run laps in my mind. So, imagine a soulmate au with Niragi. Originally I thought of the red string of fate, but even better would be a countdown to meeting and Y/N's timer significantly decreases when she joins a certain game. Then Y/N is like??? Now? Really? Then girl is stressed about finding him bc what if the game kills him off first? -🦕

Pairing: Niragi x Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU

Word Count: 908

Summary: Ten minutes left for you to find out who your soulmate is. But what if neither of you survives long enough to find each other?

Notes: Finally finished it! It was fun, love writing AU's. Hope you enjoy! 💕

There are ten minutes left.

Ten minutes and counting. You know you should be focusing on the eminent game; it won’t take much longer for it to start. But you can’t stop checking your arm, where the ten minutes quickly turn into nine. You look around you, taking in every unfamiliar face; maybe he’s already here with you.

He most definitely is. No way he isn’t, as the countdown or your arm reminds you with every ticking second. You try to control yourself from crying; what if he dies? You’re about to enter a game, after all. What guarantees you that he won’t die even before you know his name? Even before you see his face? You have been waiting for this moment for so long. Why now? Why here? It makes you want to scream.

You keep looking around, but it’s pointless; you will only know who he is when he speaks to you, and that will only happen when the number on your arm turns to zero. You think for a moment if you should try to strike a conversation with every man there, but you decide against it; none of the faces there looks approachable.

Especially the armed group in front of you. They were already there when you got to the game arena; all of them loud, intimidating, and armed. So you kept your distance. A thought crosses your mind; what if he’s one of them? You stare at the group more attentively, trying to notice if there’s anyone that looks like they’re also trying to find their soulmate.

Seven minutes left.

Your eyes lock with someone, and you quickly avert your gaze elsewhere. You had noticed him as soon as he entered the arena; clearly the leader of the group, piercings on his face, huge gun on his shoulder. He screams danger. You can feel his gaze on you, so you keep your eyes down; you hope he stays away.

A sudden ding startles you.

Game start.

You’re dead. You don’t know about your soulmate, but you’re so dead. You run for a place to hide in the big zoo turned game arena. You have no idea how you’re going to survive being hunted by large predators, especially while being unarmed. Oh, you’re so dead. You glance at your arm.

Five minutes left.

The place is fully illuminated, with several carnival rides working. You hear screams behind you, so you don’t even think twice about getting in the first ride you see. The pirate ship is a tall ride, so you're sure that if you sit on its floor no one will be able to see you. So you do exactly that, making yourself as small as possible next to the ship's side.

Three minutes left.

You stay as still as possible, focusing on the sounds of whoever or whatever passes by. Your only chance of survival is hiding until the game is over. You glance at your arm again.

One minute.

You freeze. Heavy footsteps running towards the pirate ship.

Forty seconds.

The sound of voices. More footsteps.

Twenty seconds.

A shot, followed by a laugh, right on the other side of the ship makes you scream in surprise.

Ten seconds.

Whoever's there knows where you are. You stay still.

"Get out."

Zero.

You look up. It's him. It's the man with the piercings, and the gun, and the bad vibes. And he's pointing his gun at you.

And he's your soulmate.

You know it immediately. How could you not? It was clear to you as soon as you heard his voice. It's like a veil has been lifted from your eyes and you can see clearly; see him clearly.

He keeps pointing his gun at you, obviously not recognizing you. Of course, you haven't said a word to him yet.

"Look at your arm." Is all you say.

He raises a brow before glancing at his forearm, where the countdown has reached 'zero'. He suddenly let go of his gun. It falls to the ground, shooting a few rounds on accident. You scream as you feel them hit the ship's wood, so close to your body.

"Shit, fuck, are you okay!?" he asks as he retrieves his gun in a hurry. You nod slowly, still accessing the man. He looks at you with a mix of surprise, concern, and suspicion.

He clearly knows who you are now, so you know you have nothing to fear. Still, you can't shake the feeling that he's not a good person at all. You can't see his soul, not exactly, but you can feel it; his is dark as his raven-colored hair. Not a good sign.

"What is your name?" You blurt out; you have to know.

A roar from not far away snaps both of your attention back to the game. The man glances at you and helps you stand up before leaving the ride, pressing a button and coming back inside. You can feel the ship starting to move, so you immediately take a seat. What is he doing?

"For now you can call me Niragi," he says with a smirk, as he sits next to you. "Nice to finally meet you, wifey." he pulls you against his side, making you blush, "Grab on tight," he chuckles. "We have a game to win."

One thing you're sure of now: You don't have to worry about your soulmate dying anymore. You know he won't.

Uhm can I request a Niragi x fem reader, with the cliche they know each other before the borderland thing. And the reader was Niragi's old crush and bestfriend, then they see each other again at the beach. (It can be with soft boy niragi or THE Niragi, maybe with smut?? it's really up to you, I just want to see what you'd write with that theme)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Words: 976

Summary: Niragi can't believe his eyes. It's you. After so many years, you're here.

Warnings: sex, friends to lovers

Notes: I finally got to yours! You're always so nice, I'm really glad I got to write something for you 💕 hope you enjoy! ✨

“Y/N?”

He can’t believe his eyes. After all these years, you’re now right in front of him. And in the Borderlands, at that. He knows it’s you. That smile, that laugh, that face; how could he ever forget? You never left the back of his mind.

“Suguru? Niragi Suguru?” you ask, eyes wide. You don’t seem sure that it’s him. He did change a lot since high school, after all. But then there’s that smile again. “Oh my god, it’s really you!”

He opens his arms to catch you in a hug, your laugh in his ear. You even smell the same. God, he missed you. He notices the people around you whisper, staring wide-eyed at the demonstration of affection. That reminds him where you are; you’re not kids anymore. He has a reputation to maintain. He pushes you away slightly, holding you at arm’s length. Your eyes shine as you look at him, and he can barely stop himself from smiling back at you.

“It’s really you!” you exclaim before he has a chance to speak, “You look so good, I love the piercings.”

He huffs, feeling his cheeks get warm at your words. Dammint, he’s not a schoolboy anymore.

“What’re you doing here?” he knows is a stupid question as soon as it leaves his lips. You’re here doing what everybody else does; play to not die.

“Just got here, actually,” you say, “I’ve been wandering alone for a week or so, but she-,” you point to a woman near the pool. Kuina, he’s pretty sure, the one that always hangs out with Chishiya. “-told me about this place.”

“Are you okay?” he can’t help but look you up and down for injuries. He ends up noticing more than that, and his eyes go up to meet yours. He can feel his ears turning red. Your body immediately makes him think things he shouldn’t; the red swimsuit you’re wearing does nothing to help him. If you were someone else, he would probably try to have his way with you. But not you; he would never hurt you.

You talk through the rest of the afternoon. He doesn’t have to play tonight, and neither do you, so he ends up inviting you to his room. You accept. It feels like old times again. Those days where you were just two kids, supporting one another through high school and all that came with it. You were there to save him from his bullies, and he was there to comfort you when things were bad at home.

He regrets never telling you about the crush he had on you.

But now you’re two adults, in a country where death is always imminent, and you’re drunk. He has nothing to lose. So he kisses you. He’s surprised when you kiss him back just as hard, hands practically ripping his shirt off his body.

You’re both naked in his bed before long, hands exploring each other’s bodies as you kiss. You taste like strawberries, and it reminds him of the strawberry-scented lip balm you always used to wear. Your skin is as warm as he imagined, your breasts perfect globes against his palms. You’re beautiful, and for a moment he wonders if this is all a dream.

But then you moan his name as you sink yourself on his shaft, and he’s sure you’re real. If this is a dream, he doesn’t want to wake up. You’re so warm and so tight, he almost comes right then and there. This is better than any of the fantasies he used to have with you. Nothing can beat the real thing.

The way you clench around him; how your tits move above him; the way you cry out his name. No way his brain can imagine such a thing.

He grabs your hips, forcing you to fasten your pace. You comply, taking all of him in your dripping cunt. Your moans are music to his ears, and there’s nothing else he would like to hear for the rest of his life. All his senses are consumed by you. You, you, you. Your smell, your warmth, your body.

He can’t control himself anymore.

You cry out when he turns your positions around, immediately sinking back inside you. He fucks you relentlessly, thumb abusing your clit while whispering filthy things in your ear. He can feel your orgasm coming closer. Good; he’s not sure he can hold himself back for much longer.

You come with a scream that he muffles in a kiss, fingers still on your sensitive clit as your orgasm consumes you. He comes not long after with a grunt, hands keeping your legs wide open as he spills inside you. He can barely keep his eyes open as he collapses on top of you, head in between your breasts. You don’t move as you regain your breath, your hands in his hair.

He must’ve dozed off for a while, before waking up to your claims of being squished to death. He chuckles as he gets off of you, laying down and pulling you against his side. You nuzzle his neck, a content sigh making him smile.

“You know, I had a crush on you in high school,” you blurt out, fingers drawing spirals on his chest. That surprises him. You did?!

“What?!” he chuckles, “You’re kidding me, right? I had a crush on you in high school.” It’s your time to be surprised.

“You did?!” you ask as you raise yourself on your elbows. “Why didn’t you told me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says with a small pinch to your backside. “I still got your fine ass in the end, didn’t I?”

You giggle, lightly slapping his chest before leaning in to kiss him.

He let you go once. He won’t let you go again.

Little Mouse (Niragi x Reader)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst/ Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 9k

Summary: In a game of cat-and-mouse, you were the mouse and he was the cat. What happens when the mouse is finally caught?

Warnings: sexual harassment, public fondling, anal licking, anal fingering, oral (male and female receiving), spanking, multiple positions, dirty talk, spit fetish, cum eating/fetish, bdsm themes, submission, unprotected sex, and cream pie, 

AO3 Link > Part 2

******

You can’t stop. If you stop, you’re dead. You’re sure of that much at least. The carnival music played throughout the grounds, but remained loudest around the carousel. You decided to stick to the brightest areas in case something came running at you. In this case, something is running after you. You could feel the tiger even if you could not see or hear it. It’d spotted you by the carousel and you’ve been running ever since. You zigzagged through game and food stalls, hoping you might lose it in the lights and confusion, but it still chased you. You jumped over railings and ran underneath rides. You had to lose the damn thing eventually. You didn’t know how much longer you could run. Your feet already burned in every step; you can feel your legs starting to slow down from the aching pains in your muscles. But your adrenaline kept you going. You moved in autopilot as you searched for an escape. You reached the tilt-o-whirl ride and navigated the spinning floors, occasionally slipping or being grazed by a seat. You managed to grab onto one of them, place your feet on the edge and climb inside. You hid in the crook of the seat, but kept your head close to the edge. You used to hate fair rides. Yet, here you were. 

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i. KIRISHIMA EIJIRO RECC LIST

credit to the owner ( lmk if you know who made it )

kiri’s list is growing so much ( and will continue too ) as he is indeed best boi — if you did not know, u know now — and i thought it was time he got his own list!

— the fics are separated by one-shot’s, multi-chaptered ( ones that have short and/ of a few chapters or one-shot’s in the same universe ), and series.

— most of these are fluff, but please read the warnings that are added by the author. i don’t want anyone to feel uncomfy or triggered

— if you have any kirishima ( or other mha/ bnha, hq, jjk, blue exorsist ) reccs let me know, we can share fics together!

ONE-SHOT

▸ the manliest man | @burnedbyshoto

▸ i do adore | @oikawasass

▸ more than friends | @katsushimaa

▸ crazy | katsushimaa

▸ summer love | @cafedanslanuit

▸ never a bad time | @kageyeaman

▸ in the kitchen | @moxie-elle

▸ soft mornings | @ultimate-astridwriting

▸ promise | @hazel1618

▸ ring pop | @kirishimaswife2819

▸ jealous | @kittykei

▸ are you jealous? | @bakublossom

▸ crush culture | bakublossom

▸ write me a cliche | @kaistarus

▸ disconnected | burnedbyshoto

▸ the pizza delivery guy | @myherowritings

▸ never a bad time | kageyeaman

▸ just a moment | @bnhaworld

▸ workout whispers | @technicallyflamey

▸ ten times happier | @justanotherperson

▸ heartless | @bnhaficswriter

▸ an unexpected matchmaker | @arigatouiris

▸ i’m not like her | @aphroditeparadisesstuff

▸ all the time you need | @akaa-keijis

▸ asexual | @expresstheobsession

MULTI-PARTER

▸ to love and to love again | @mulier-indomita

SERIE

▸ kiripima | @dolliedarlin

▸ please, let me take you | @nyxdelanuit

OTHER RECOMMENDATIONS

i. MHA/ BNHA | STUDENT RECC LIST

ii. MHA/ BNHA | PRO’S & VILLAINS RECC LIST

iii. RECC LIST NAVIGATION

iv. HAIKYUU RECC LIST

v. JUJUTSU KAISEN RECC LIST

vi. ATTACK ON TITAN RECC LIST

vii. MATURE RECC LIST

Teehee!! ☺️

the manliest man

— Hoodies and playlists, a simple and effective way to capture your heart. —

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x reader

warnings: cursing, fluff

word count: 3,805

a/n: I had like a sudden kirishima fluff mood, and this was transpired. it was so weird because I typically dont get character moods for anyone who isn’t shouto, anyways enjoy my rewritten story because i did not save it HA

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“Take your sweater, dumbass, you’ll get cold at night!”

The second those words left Bakugou’s lips, you knew that he was right, but you were never one to follow directions. Especially Bakugou’s instructions.

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SORRY YALL IVE BEEN INACTIVE WKJSIS but i’m working on a full story. i already have a chapter out on wattpad and it’s around 5k words so please go read😹😹 it’s a deku x reader fic. click here.

i’m also working on getting an ao3 account too so pray for me yall. thanks for being patient 😽😽

Hey, guys

I hate myself for doing this. And I was afraid this moment would come, but honestly right now I have ran out of options.

I'm seeing myself in the position to ask for donations from everyone who can afford to help, anything you can give would really help me.

My Paypal is maryef5493@yahoo.com

I will be completely honest about this, for transparency sake, this money will go to personal expenses such as pads, I can't use bar soap to shower because it irritates my skin so I have to buy shower gel which is generally more expensive, I also have to give my parents a monthly sum to help with groceries and cleaning products for the house, body lotion because my skin scabs a lot and that helps keep it under control. I also would like to pay off part of the debt I got in when I had to buy a new laptop last year because my old one stopped working. I've payed about a third of it, but still have to finish paying it.

As many others the pandemic had affected my flow of work, I work for a chinese company doing transcripts in different websites, ever since the pandemic started the projects that would normally come to us have been redirected to other teams that do them for less money. I live in Venezuela, which also doesn't help with hyperinflation running rampant and no plan in sight for possible vaccination, finding a different job has proven to be almost impossible.

I would be forever grateful if any of you could help.

My Paypal is maryef5493@yahoo.com

Edit (25/5/21): After yesterday, when I got rejected from that writing job, I still need donations. Is not ideal and I really would like things to get better soon, so please reblog this so others see it.