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curls-and-crosses · 10 months

Note

I really liked what you did kirishima , would it be ok to request Yandere kirishima who slowly falls for the reader ? Kinda like a spotted mind , a slow burn Yandere (seriously love what you did with Shinso their ) hope this ok if not no worries 💗

Hero Insurance

WARNINGS: yandere, possessiveness, blackmail, misogyny, nsfw, smut, slight daddy kink, slight size kink, non-consensual implications

A/N: sorry this took so long, hope you enjoy!

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! KIRISHIMA EIJIRO X READER

“We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“When you stop smashing your way through half the city’s architecture, we will.” She didn’t look up from her clipboard to see the sheepish look washing over the hero’s face, cheeks nearly red as his hair, from previous exertion or embarrassment, she didn’t know–didn’t care.

She sighed, but turned to oversee the construction workers picking their way through the rubble–Jesus Christ, this was going to cost a fortune.

She sent a mental apology to the poor insurance accountants who she was sure were as sick of these heroes as she was–nevermind the half-rate villain being led away in chains somewhere in the background, yelling obscenities and threats and contributing significantly to her growing headache. Annoying.

He trailed after her, “Hey, uh,” She spared him a cursory glance, and he swallowed, “Let me…I can totally help pay for this; it’s uh…the manly thing to do.” She rolled her eyes, turning back to watch a crowd gather at the borders of the police tape secured around what was left of the building and its surrounding area.

“That’s hardly necessary, sir–”

“We’ve been over this, call me–”

“Besides, if you were to personally pay for all the property damage you have committed, say, throughout your career,” She scribbled something down on the clipboard, before shoving it in his face, “You would owe the city approximately…this much.”

She swore his eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and was internally amused as he leaned down and followed zero after zero after zero on the paper with his finger. He stood suddenly, clearing his throat, and avoided her gaze.

“Well, I…” He sighed, searching for the words, “I’m sure I could–”

“Oi! Shitty hair,” His savior came in the form of a familiar gravelly voice, “Get your ass over here! I’m sick a’ these damn reporters.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, he gave her a brief nod before hurrying off to the hoards of adoring fans. She rolled her eyes, turning back to inspect the damage. Well…another day, another massive disaster to fix.

.♡.

“I swear if I have to see that chick one more time,” He huffed, downing his drink, “‘M not sure my manhood could take it.”

“You talkin’ about the Ice Queen again?” He glanced towards the peppy blonde man shoving his way through the doors, and into the bar.

“That insurance lady?” The black haired man at his side questioned, “Ain’t it the third time this month she’s been up your shit?” He laughed, “She must be hurtin’ for it, huh?”

He huffed, averting his gaze, “Hardly,” A shiver passed down his spine in remembrance, “Everytime I see her I feel like I’m getting scolded by my grade school teacher or something.”

“Real sexy grade school teacher, though, huh?” The lightning blonde jeered.

He rolled his eyes, “It’s not like I’m the only hero who’s knocked down a building or two, right?” He turned to the other blonde who scoffed.

“Don’t look at me,” He downed a shot, “I avoid the bitch like the plague; I don’t need another asshole slappin’ me on the wrists fer doin’ my job–press does that for her.”

“I just…” He huffed, “I don’t like that she doesn’t like me,” He turned to his friends, “I’m…I’m a likable guy, aren’t I?”

He was met with laughs, making his cheeks burn as he groaned. He waited as they settled before downing another drink. The raven-haired man ruffled his hair in mock comfort.

“Guess you’ll find out just how likable at this year’s Hero Billboards, yeah?”

.♡.

The universe really did like playing some cruel jokes on him lately, huh? He stared up at the soulless glass building that towered over him–a few signatures missing from the insurance forms. Ha. Of course. Hero work ain’t always takin’ down bad guys and savin’ princesses in their towers, kids.

He huffed, and forced himself inside, hands clenching and unclenching as he stood in the elevator, watching the floors climb. In and out.

God, why was he so nervous? A flash of those dull, condescending eyes; he was surprised she hadn’t turned him to stone the second she’d met his gaze. Weren’t women supposed to be meek and soft?

The lady at the reception desk had certainly seemed so; the way she batted her eyelashes, voice coated in sugar–yeah, that made sense to him–when they looked at him all starry-eyes and empty heads.

He tried to imagine the Ice Queen like that–she did have pretty eyes–what would happen if she looked at him with something other than irritation–nope, too creepy, get that out of my head.

He passed by the main room: dozens of nameless heads and shoulders, hunched over their desks, typing away at computers from within their gray cubicles. Depressing. Turning down a hallway he was met with a row of doors–where was her office, again?

The sound of laughter cut through his thoughts. Children’s laughter? As if on cue, a rush of tiny, unsteady footsteps padded across the floor and straight into him–well, his legs. A soft thud and ‘oof’ brought his gaze down.

“I’m sorry! So sorry, Mister Hero!” A small boy was rubbing his head from his fallen place back on the floor. He stood, brushing himself off, before placing his small hands against the man’s legs, mimicking a sort of soothing motion.

“So sorry. This feel better? All better now?”

He went to respond, but a familiar click of heels interrupted, and the Ice Queen was standing in front of him, leaning down to face the child as a sigh escaped from her lips.

Before she could speak he opened his mouth; he really didn’t want to watch her scold the little boy for being…well, a little boy, “It was an accident,” He ruffled the child’s hair, and the latter giggled, “Really, no harm done.”

She glanced up at him from her position crouched on the floor, brows furrowing as her head tilted in confusion, before turning back to the child, “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Oh? This was strange. The look on her face wasn’t stern, and her voice was quieter, softer. Kind of…sweet? He must be hearing things.

“Nope!” The boy popped his ‘p’, giving a big, toothy smile, “But Mister Hero got a boo boo; you gotta kiss it better!”

His face burned. It was hard to imagine anyone, forget that it was a child, talking so warmly with the woman in front of him.

“Mister Hero’s a tough guy,” She told the boy, “Besides, I can only kiss your boo boos better.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm,” She stood, taking his small hand in her own, “Really. But if you keep running off like that, I’ll run out of kisses. So be more careful. We have to save them for when you really need ‘em, okay?”

“Okay!”

She turned to face him, clearing her throat as she averted her gaze. No. She couldn’t be. Was the Ice Queen, of all people, flustered?

“Sorry for the inconvenience.” She muttered, bowing slightly before motioning with her head towards an office door in the far corner, “I have all the documents in my office; shouldn’t take long.”

He blinked, opening his mouth to respond, but she turned on her heel, shoes clicking down the hallway as the little boy swung their interlocked hands to and fro. Cute.

She held the door open for him, though he still had to hunch as he walked through the opening. He took in the scene: neat mahogany desk, floor to ceiling windows, shelf, children’s toys littering the floor–children’s toys? The little boy detached from the woman, diving towards one of the brightly colored stuffed animals.

The man maneuvered his way towards the desk, slipping slightly when his foot met a toy car. She caught his arm, eyes still avoiding his own, and her face twisted in a frown.

“The daycare closes early on weekends, no one to watch him, I–” She swallowed, arm pulling from his own the second he collected himself, “It’s not usually this messy,” She huffed the words as if they were shameful to admit before composing herself, shaking her head a bit. “The papers are on the desk.” She ushered him forward, sifting through her drawers before taking out a pen, pressing it into his hand.

He cleared his throat, nodding, “It’s–That’s fine,” He leaned down to sign, striking up conversation to fill the painful silence between them, “Is this your, uh, is this your son?”

She shot him a sharp look, and he was sure if looks could kill he’d burst to flames that very moment. He swallowed, flipping the page to add another signature. Through his periphery, he caught sight of a look exchanged between the woman and child before she sighed.

“Yes.” He waited a moment for her to continue only to be met with silence. Wow. A real open book, wasn’t she?

Flipping through the pages, he double checked the signatures. Sighing, he stood, nodding to her, “Sorry about that, thought the agency’d taken care a’ all the paperwork.”

She rolled her eyes, gathering them in her hands, scanning through the pages before taking something from her desk drawer, and stamping the top page. Setting it in a file on the desk, she met his gaze.

“Thank you,” She cleared her throat, “In the future, hopefully we don’t end up in a situation needing to fill out more paperwork.”

Geez, that's cold. “Yeah, uh, sorry again.” He turned to leave, but a tug on his pant leg caught his attention.

“Hey, hey, Mister Hero,” The little boy waved a toy car in his hand, “Wanna play cars?”

“He has things to do, baby,” The woman interrupted, “I can play with you all you want later.”

“But you’re working now!” He huffed, “Please, please, just for a little–”

“I don’t mind.” He surprised himself and her with the words, but a glance to the little boy’s face brought a smile to his own. He always did like kids.

She looked between them, hesitant, teeth chewing her lip before speaking, “It’s really–you don’t have to. Really, it’s–it’s okay.” Who knew she could sound sheepish. He was learning a lot about the Ice Queen today, it seemed.

He plopped on the floor, cross legged as he took the car handed to him, flashing her a smile, “You kidding?” He turned back to the child, “I love playin’ cars.”

The little boy squealed in delight, and in his periphery he caught sight of a soft look in her eyes, “Thank you.” It was quiet, but the ghost of a smile on her face made something in his chest do a little jump.

.♡.

“You received a package from the insurance agency today, sir.”

He glanced towards his secretary, brows furrowed. God, what did he do this time? He rubbed a hand down his face, groaning, but she continued.

“It’s strange,” She tapped her chin, “There was a note attached; I think it was from that lady that doesn’t like you,” A mischievous smile on her lips, ��I left it on your desk.”

“Great. Thanks.” He trudged down the hallway to his office; it was too early in the morning for this.

As he pushed the door open he caught sight of it: wrapped neatly in red colored paper, a thin ribbon tying it together. Huh. There was a neat little note attached, his hero name written in pretty cursive on the front.

Please accept this food as thanks.

I appreciate you humoring my son; he really enjoyed spending time with you.

He also wanted me to inform you that you’ve become his new favorite hero.

I was unaware of your food preferences, but I hope this is sufficient.

Only the Ice Queen could manage to make such a kind gesture seem impersonal. Still, he found himself smiling; underneath all that frost and cold she really was a cute little thing, wasn’t she? It was signed with her name at the bottom, and he realized he hadn’t known it until now; it was kind of pretty, he thought.

He pulled the ribbon from the box, and the paper fell away to reveal a neatly stacked bento box. Peeling the top layer, he was met with a mouthwatering smell. Meat. Fancy little dishes prepared delicately, with care. The other levels contained vegetables and sweets, all meticulously decorated. It was a practical gift, he supposed, but still, she’d taken the time to cook him a meal.

How…womanly of her.

.♡.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She didn’t think she’d ever sprinted so fast in her life, sure she might break a heel, though, not entirely bothered considering the circumstances. A villain attack. At a goddamn preschool. At her son’s goddamn preschool. Fuck.

There it was. Cordoned off with yellow police tape, a crowd was gathering outside the gates, reporters or parents or both, she didn’t really care.

“Kenta! Kenta! My son–have you seen my son? Please–” She elbowed her way to the front of the crowd, flagging down a police officer stationed outside.

“Ma’am, please step back. There is an active villain threat in–”

“My son’s in there, please.”

“There are a lot of parents here; if you’d just step back–”

There was a crash that sounded like a wrecking ball hitting pavement, and everyone watched with bated breath as one of the walls to the building crumbled away, bricks splitting and breaking from the force.

As the dust settled, she watched as a massive figure stepped from the rubble. Wait a minute. Is that…? He was carrying kids from his arms and shoulders, some hanging on with their hands as they dangled from his limbs–he looked like a fucking jungle gym–

“Mama! Mama! Look who’s here!” The unmistakable voice of her son pulled her from her thoughts. From atop the hero’s shoulder, Kenta was waving his arms, giggling as he called to her.

“All clear!” The man shouted, a sharp, toothy smile on his lips as he scanned the crowd, motioning with his head to the nearly collapsed building behind him, “He’s passed out in the southeast classroom, figured I’d gather the kids first.”

The police made their way into the building as he kneeled down to let the children race from the rubble, and into the arms of their parents. She ducked under the yellow tape, eyes set on the little boy sat on the hero’s shoulder.

“Heh. Sorry ‘bout the wall; couldn’t help the –oof!”

Without thinking, she threw her arms around his shoulders, on her tiptoes as she embraced her son, the other hand hooked around the man’s neck, pulling him downwards a bit into a hunch, so that she could reach.

She was shaking a little, and he wasn’t entirely sure where to put his hands, though, glad that she couldn’t see the red creeping up his neck and cheeks. Awkwardly, one of his hands came to pat her on the back, which seemed to bring her back to reality as she stumbled a bit aways from him.

She cleared her throat, holding out her hands, and he shifted so that the boy could shuffle into his mother’s arms.

She checked his face for marks, “Are you okay?” Inspecting his arms for any signs of cuts or bruises, “Did you get hurt?”

He gave a bright smile, “I’m okay!” He giggled a bit, and she set him down, letting him bounce in excitement on the ground, “You shoulda seen it, Mama! He was so cool; the bad guy was like–” He made an angry face, squaring his shoulders, and growled as he brought his hands into a fighting pose, “But then, but then, boom! And then–”

“I want to hear all about it, baby,” She smiled, “But let’s get you home first, yeah? You’ve got dirt all over you.”

“Mhmm mhmm, okay! But it makes me look cool, right?”

“Super cool,” She turned to the hero now, and he swallowed, willing the heat to die on his cheeks, “I’m sorry that I just–I didn’t mean to throw myself on you, but really, what you did–”

“Just the job,” He smiled, hand coming to sheepishly scratch his head, “Happy to do it, honest.”

“No,” she corrected, and he found himself holding his breath as he studied the intensity in her stare. But he didn’t feel like she’d turn him to stone; he kind of felt…warm? “Thank you. Really. I can’t ever repay you for this.”

“Well, you’re probably gonna have to deal with the insurance money and rebuild, so just add it to my tab, and I’ll call us even, yeah?”

There was a small smile on her face, “Consider your tab cleared.” Was his heart pumping so loudly from the adrenaline or because the quirk in her lips made her whole face brighter? Was that her quirk? Could she speed up his pulse, so that his heart beat out of his chest?

He went to say something, but the sound of his hero name being shouted over the police tape–reporters–interrupted.

He sighed, giving her a nod, “Well, duty calls,” He gave her one more glance as he walked away, “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you?” It sounded casual, but he found himself suddenly nervous.

“Well, if you keep smashing your way through half the city’s architecture, you will.” He didn’t know she had a sense of humor, but, spotting the playful glint in her eyes, he found it kind of…cute.

.♡.

“There’s someone here to see you, sir,” His secretary called as he stepped from the elevator, “It’s that insurance lady, again.” She wiggled her eyebrows a bit in teasing, and he found his face warming as he avoided her gaze. Another bento, maybe?

“Thanks, uh, you can let her in.”

“Oh, I already did,” There was a smug smile on her face, “She’s in your office.”

He groaned, ignoring her cheeky laugh as he made his way into his office.

“Oh!” She called after him, “The Commission called. They wanna know if you’re confirming for the Hero Billboards?”

He nodded, waving his hand in placation, “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

Pushing the door to his office open, he found himself staring at her profile; she was half turned away from him, gazing out the floor to ceiling windows, and he almost didn’t want to say anything, lest he disturb the peaceful look on her face.

His eyes wandered her figure; she really was a woman, wasn’t she? In every sense of the word. Remembering how she felt in his arms, soft too. Soft and small and pretty and womanly. His hands itched at his sides. How would it feel to hold her?

Squeezing the skin of her waist, brushing his thumbs over the bones of her hips; it’d be so easy to pick her up, hands sliding down a bit further, throwing her legs around his waist; she was already against the window; what other expressions could he see on her face, then? Shaking himself from his thoughts, he felt a bit embarrassed. But, he was a man; it was normal to think like this about a woman, right?

She caught sight of him as she turned, and immediately a new look took over her face; it wasn’t an expression he entirely enjoyed, however. She looked agitated, upset, and she squeezed at the fat of her arms as she crossed them, nervous.

“We need to talk.” She pulled something from her purse, unfurling it to reveal a tabloid magazine. More specifically, a picture slapped on the cover: the two of them embracing outside the pre-school, his hand placed on her back, making it look like an altogether domestic scene.

And the title: “THE STURDY HERO BREAKING DOWN WALLS AND BREAKING HEARTS; DON’T RIOT, GIRLS, BUT HE’S TAKEN!” Real creative.

He swallowed his nerves, laughing off the tension, “Yeah, I heard about that,” Avoiding her gaze, “I’m real sorry–the tabloids just print whatever sells, ya know?”

“Can you have them retract it?” He was almost offended with how quick she was to shoot it down, “Please,” Sensing his nerves, she sighed, gathering her thoughts, “Kenta is…He’s not ready for this, even if it is just tabloid gossip. Please, can you ask them to retract it?”

“I–”

“Or if not,” She began pacing, “Can you do an interview? Before this gets out of hand, it’d be best to clear things up.”

He approached her, taking her by the arms lightly to stop her pacing. She pulled from his grip, but stood still. He scanned her face as he looked down at her, and a thought too selfish crossed his mind. No. Don’t go there.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” He soothed her; this would be fine, “I’ll tell the press; you don’t gotta worry.”

She let out a sigh of relief, and he bit his tongue. Was it manly of him to just let it lie? In all those romance movies he watched, the guy always fought for the girl. He used whatever elaborate plots he could to show her he was the one. And, I mean, maybe it’d be good for both of them. He needed to figure out why he couldn’t look her in the eyes without imagining bending her over the nearest surface anymore.

“But,” He avoided her gaze, “I, uh, geez, this is embarrassing.”

She tilted her head, but motioned for him to continue.

“The, uh, you know the Hero Billboards are coming up soon?”

“Yes,” She squared her shoulders as her gaze turned suspicious, “What about it?”

“I think if, well, if I ask for a retraction before, it might tank my popularity ranking,” He swallowed, “Which, totally, is just a number–and not a big deal–I just, would you mind…is it unmanly of me to ask you if we could wait until it’s over to tell the press?”

There was a beat of silence, and he cursed himself in his mind. Of course she’s gonna say no. It’s the Ice Queen we’re talkin’ about. Just cause she’s got a kid, and she makes a killer tori katsu, and her ass bounces when she–

“Okay,” She sighed. What? She met his gaze, nodding, “I did say I could never repay you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to–”

“But, um,” She swallowed, “Kenta was asking about you,” Avoiding his gaze, she cleared her throat, “Do you think you could, um, do you think you could take him out on patrol? Even just once, I think he’d…if it’s not too much trouble–”

God, she was fucking adorable.

“You kidding?” His lips split in a wide grin, “I’d be honored. He’s, uh, he’s a good kid. You’ve done good.”

“It’s a deal, then.” There was that soft smile again, and on cue, his heart sped its rhythm.

“It’s a deal.”

.♡.

The office felt strangely empty after she left. He couldn’t focus. The lights were too bright. His chair was lumpy. The font on the paperwork was too small. His pants didn’t fit right. Oh. His pants didn’t fit right.

He glanced around the office. It was fine, right? It’d just take a moment. Be real quick. Just to ease the tension. It’d help him focus after, for sure.

Fuck it.

He stood suddenly, shutting the blinds to his office; he was pent up. It was her fault to begin with, really. Settling into his chair, he let out a breath, hand creeping under the waistband of his pants, fingers trailing down from the black hairs to grip at the pulsating, desperate source of his current agony, feeling near immediate relief as he began to stroke.

He wanted to take her against the window, didn’t he?

Her thighs squeezing his waist as his fingers dug into the flesh of her ass, cock buried to the hilt inside what was undeniably warm and tight and hers. He’d fuck her deep and slow at first. Savor the feel of her wrapped around him. Make what she thought was hers irrefutably his; mold her pretty cunt to the shape of him. He wouldn’t be able to keep the pace though, ramming her against the glass walls for all of Japan to see, to hear her scream his name. How would she sound if he sunk his teeth into her neck? What would she call him?

Baby?

Love?

Daddy?

“Oh, fuck.” His thumb stroked the angry red tip threatening to burst in his pants, tightening his vice-grip, fingers flexing along the length. Up and down and up and down to the rhythm he’d fuck her to. Faster and Faster. Harder and harder.

Daddy, please! She’d take her lip between her teeth, try and fail to stifle the sounds he was forcing from her throat. A hand tangled in his hair, tugging to find some sense of relief as he hauled her over his desk to play with the jewel between her legs.

He’d leave a trail of bruises down her chest; take one of her pretty tits in his mouth, playing with the nipple on his tongue. Hips snapping roughly into hers as he felt her pulse quicken, breath choked as her hands came to clutch his shoulders, nails sinking in to ease the tension.

He’d make her beg for it.

“Tell Daddy what you want.” His eyes fell closed, hips bucking into his fist as he imagined it. He’d take his hand to her throat, fingers twitching at the feel of her pumping veins, thumb tracing her jaw as he watched doe eyes dilate. Lose all thought save for anything that had to do with him, and how he was fucking her, and how that feeling pooling in her gut was something only he could give her.

Please, Daddy, please! Let me cum. Can I cum?

She’d cry, pretty tears pooling in her eyes as she tried to hold on. Obey him. Please him. Cum for him. All for him.

“Yeah? You wanna cum? You think you deserve it?”

Yes! Please, Daddy! Please!

Her tits would rock from the force as his desk creaked to the rhythm below them. His tongue darting out to lick at his sharp, drooling canines, completely enamored with the feast moaning prettily underneath him.

He’d lean down, forcing his lips onto hers as his tongue explored inside, devouring the sounds from her throat. And he’d pull back once he was sure he could feel her tighten around him, hot air brushing against her lips when he finally released her.

“Cum for me, baby.”

He’d watch her eyes cross, mouth falling open as the knot in her stomach snapped. That Ice Queen exterior melted and soft and grateful. She’d whimper, and look up at him from under her butterfly lashes with hazy, pleasure-drunk eyes, lips bloated and hair sprawled beneath her like an angel’s halo.

“What do you say, baby?”

Thank you, Daddy. I love you.

Shit. Shit. Shit. He bit his lip, brows furrowing as the slick on his hand made his gut start to tingle. Fuck. His shoulders slumped as he caught his breath, surveying his mess. That’s alright, he thought.

It was her job to clean up his messes, wasn’t it?

.♡.

“Oh,” She blinked as she opened the door, “What time is it? Wasn’t I supposed to meet you at your office?”

Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder to a wall clock in the living room. He huffed an apologetic laugh, doing his best to ignore the way the apron wrapped snugly around her waist hugged her curves, and the splotches of flour that reminded him of the labors of a dutiful housewife.

“Nah, you’re good,” He motioned with his head to the boy sitting atop his shoulders, one hand steadying the child, “Kenta was hungry, and there isn’t much ‘sides energy drinks and granola bars at the agency.”

“We saw a whole buncha bad guys, Mama! They were tryna rob the bank, and–”

“You were inside a bank during a robbery?” He caught the sharp turn in her voice, and was quick to correct the child.

“He was safe behind the barricades,” She stepped aside to let them in, “Got a front row seat, right buddy?”

“Mhmm!” He set the child down, and Kenta raced towards the kitchen, “Smells good! What’s for dinner?”

They shared a look as she shut the door, and let out a sigh, “Thank you,” She swallowed, “I’m…He looks like he had fun, so I’m really–”

“Don’t mention it,” He smiled, “Next week’s patrol route should be safer if he wants to tag along.”

“That’s–you really don’t need to…” Was the flush on her face embarrassment or, or was he finally starting to chip that icy exterior? “Are you sure it’s–”

“Oh yeah,” He glanced towards the boy sifting through cabinets in the kitchen, “Kenta’s my number one sidekick, right?”

“Mm!” The boy turned towards them, face stuffed with some pastry as he hummed.

“Kenta!” She scurried over to him, shutting the lid to the cookie jar, “We’re just about to have dinner; don’t go ruining your appetite!”

“‘M not!” He stifled a laugh as he watched the boy cross his arms petulantly, “I got two stomachs; one for food and then a whole ‘nother big one for desert!”

She smiled lightly as she watched him shove two fingers in her face before putting her hands up in mock concession, “Oh, well, it’s a pity that Mama’s only got one stomach then, huh?” Making her way over to the impressive spread on the dining room counter, “I better dig in while I can.”

She plucked a piece of sushi from one of the platters, and he swallowed as he watched her push it between her lips with her fingers, tongue brushing over the tips as she pulled them from her mouth. He tried to will himself to look away, though, she was entirely too focused on the little boy now jumping for the sushi platter to bother with his own leering.

“Not if I do first!” He watched as the boy practically inhaled the food, attention drawn back at the sound of light laughter. Her hand was covering her mouth, but the twinkle in her eye sent lightning into his heart. Pretty.

He huffed a sigh to calm his racing pulse, “Guess I’ll leave ya to–”

“You gotta stay for dinner!” Face stuffed full with an array of food, Kenta’s words were muffled, “Right, Mama?”

He glanced towards her, taking in her hesitant features. Not yet.

“Ah. That’s alright, I don’t–”

“Stay,” He was taken aback by the softness of the word, “I mean…if you’d like, as a thank you for taking Kenta out, stay.”

Fuck. This woman would be the death of him.

.♡.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” She looked at him through the corner of her eye as she handed him another wet dish to towel off.

“Nah, I owe ya for that killer dinner,” He paused, “Come to think of it; I owe ya for the bento too, Ms. Pro Chef.”

She rolled her eyes playfully before turning back to the sink, and the two settled into a comfortable silence before she paused, mouth twisting a bit as her brows furrowed.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for Kenta,” She let out a sigh, turning to face him as she shut the tap, “But um, this is, a bit…” She motioned around the kitchen, the wholly domestic scene, “Hero Billboards or not, the two of us aren’t actually…”

He watched as she struggled to find the words, “‘Course not,” Stamping out the sprouting disappointment in his chest, he plastered on that hero smile, “But what’s a dinner between friends, right?”

He watched as the trepidation melted off her face. Was the thought of being with him really that bad? Shaking himself from his thoughts he sighed as he watched her maneuver behind him to start reshelving the cutlery and plates.

“Yeah. Friends.” She sent him a soft smile, and he found himself the slightest bit surprised that it hadn’t melted his heart on cue. He wanted more.

She was bent over the counter in a way too sinful to be a coincidence. Was she testing him? Waiting for him to take initiative, prove to her that he was a man? He wouldn’t leave her high and dry the way so many others in her life seemed to–he could be that guy for her.

Eyes trailing to the swell of her backside, he spotted her dress lifted slightly at the fat of her thighs. Would she look at him then? If he took her by the hair, forced her cheek to the counter, smushed her pretty tits against it, and ripped the cotton panties down her legs?

He was sure, looking down at her; she was so small. She’d fucking wail when he forced his cock through her walls. Maybe he could see himself poking through under the skin of her stomach: full of him.

He’d destroy her.

Ruin her for anyone and everyone else. How many times had she chided him for his reckless behavior, for the destruction his hands had wrecked?

He’d repay her tenfold. Those hands could do more than destroy. They’d make her cum again and again and again. Until the only thought running through her mind was him and how good he was fucking her and how goddamn grateful she was to be fucked by, to be loved by, him.

The call of his name brought him back from his thoughts, and he looked over to meet her concerned eyes.

“Are you alright?” She closed the gap between them, and lifted to her toes, tapping his shoulder to bring him down a bit before she pressed her hand to his forehead, “You’re a little flushed; are you sick?”

Well, with you this close to me, I fucking might be.

He straightened suddenly, “Nah,” Letting out a sheepish laugh, “Must be the long hours. Hero work ain’t always the most forgivin’, I guess,'' He huffed a sigh, “I should get goin’ though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” She watched as he made his way to the door, “Okay.”

“I’ll be by some time to take Kenta out on patrol, if that’s still alright?”

She nodded as he slipped his shoes on, and was left a bit confused at the abrupt close to the evening with the click of her front door falling shut.

He let out a breath as he closed the door, leaning against the wood to regain his composure as his hand ran through his hair. He could do this. He stretched his arms over his head as he headed down the steps of her porch.

The cold night air soothed the warmth in his cheeks, but it seemed that a fire more insatiable had been lit in his chest. He strolled casually down the sidewalk, eyes trained up at the grinning moon, making sure to hide the mirroring smirk that pulled at his lips as the camera flashed from the bushes. Right on cue.

.♡.

“I need to get a new secretary.” He joked as he shut the door to his office, catching sight of the woman in his office.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Her mouth was set in a line, hands pulling nervously at her sleeves as her arms crossed.

What?

She began pacing, “I’m really sorry,” She avoided his gaze, “I know you’ve done a lot for Kenta, for me, and I can pay you back with however much you–”

“Woah, woah,” He approached her, stopping her nervous pacing, “What’s goin’ on? Tell me what happened.”

She sighed, looking up to meet his gaze, and he noticed for the first time eye bags forming on her face.

“Paparazzi are showing up to Kenta’s preschool,” She huffed, “Taking pictures of him playing outside, trying to ask him questions.”

His eyebrows raised a bit in shock, but he softened his gaze, “I’m so sorry,” He went to guide her to sit down, “I’ll take care of it, promise.”

He didn’t like where this was going. So she wasn’t in love with him yet. Okay. He just needed more time. She couldn’t leave.

She pushed his hand off her shoulder, “It’s not just that,” She swallowed, “They’re everywhere, at my office, at the daycare, anywhere we fucking go; they’re even showing up at the house.”

“It’s oka–”

“How do they even know where I live?” Her brows knit together, “You know there are pictures of you leaving? At night?”

“I didn’t–”

“Do you know how indecent that makes me look?” She rubbed her hands down her face, breathing out his name, “I’m already a single mother; I don’t need the entirety of Japan questioning any more of my integrity, certainly not questioning my son.”

Wouldn’t most women be flattered by the attention? Whatever; he needed to end this before it got out of hand.

“You’re right,” He placated, “Look,” He sighed, “The Hero Billboards are next week,” Just a little longer and they’d be there; she just wasn’t ready yet, “We only gotta have one more public appearance, and–”

“Public Appearance?” Her voice turned sharp, “You want me to be your fake date, in front of the whole country, just so you can save your ranking?” Her eyes flashed in accusation, “Have you been listening to what I–”

“Enough,” Fuck, he was getting fed up. Didn’t she know how much he cared about her? How much he did for her? “I have been listening; it’s your turn.”

“Excuse me–”

He stepped forward, backing her against the window, and an uneasy look settled on her face. Was this what it took? He just needed to show a little dominance. Be the man. And she would listen. He placed his hand above her on the glass as he leaned down.

“One more week,” Bringing his other hand to her face, one finger outstretched, “That’s all I’m askin’.”

She went to open her mouth, but he shushed her. Oh. This felt kinda good. The way she was looking at him. Hanging on to his every word because, right now, he had the power.

“I’m not done,” He breathed, “One more week. I’ll take care a’ the paparazzi. I’ll take care a’ everything. So–”

Her mouth twisted, a conflict growing in her eyes, but she forced the words in spite of it, “I don’t need you to take care of it. I don’t need you to take care of me. I need you to–”

“Oh, you don’t?” His tone turned mocking, and his teeth bit into his lip as he watched her swallow, “Let’s ask Kenta how much he needs me, why don’t we? You really gonna–”

“You are not his father.” The words were firm, but the tensing of her shoulders betrayed her, and he leaned closer.

“I’m the closest thing he’s got, baby.”

The shock washed over her features before settling on anger. Cute. She pushed him off her. Well, he let her. She was such a weak little thing, after all.

“So this is who you are?” She scoffed, “This,” She motioned between them, “Is over. I refuse to entertain whatever misogynistic tirade you’ve decided to indulge in.” Okay. Less cute.

She made her way to the door, glancing briefly over her shoulder, “Do not attempt to contact me or my son again.” And she was gone.

Well shit.

His tongue smacked against his teeth as he kept his gaze on the door. He was tryna show her that he was the man. He could take care of her, of everything. All she had to do was shut the fuck up and let him. Does she know how many women would kill for that?

He’d earned it. He’d done so much. He’d tried being patient. Tried to go at her pace. Be a gentleman. But, he realized, brats don’t want gentlemen. That’s what she was after all. What she’d always been, he realized. Ice Queen. Queen? The thought made him want to laugh now.

Is that what she wanted? For him to take her over his knee, smack that pretty ass ‘till it was black and blue? Make her cry for her Daddy? Put her in her goddamn place; wash out all her sharp, angry words with his cock shoved down her throat.

Force her to her knees?

Okay. He could do that.

.♡.

“What do you mean someone picked him up?”

“Well,” The preschool teacher swallowed nervously, “He said that you had–”

“He?” Her blood went cold, and in a quiet voice, she breathed his name in question.

“Yes!” The other woman smiled, “So you did approve of–”

She didn’t hear the rest of the words, blood rushing in her ears. She felt sick. What was going on? What kind of joke was this? She stumbled her way out of the gates, collapsing against them outside. Nauseous.

She tried to calm her breathing. He was still a hero. A fucking asshole with no sense of boundaries. But a hero. Right?

She took her hands to her cheeks, smacking herself to calm down. She let out a breath, swallowing the tears as she fumbled through her purse for her phone.

Ring ring! Ring ring! Ring–

“He–”

“Where do you get off?” She couldn’t help the words that spilled from her throat, “Kenta is my son; what you’re doing is essentially kidna–”

“Hey, sweetheart.” She could hear the smugness in his voice, and cursed herself for allowing herself to think for one second he might have been a decent human being.

“Where is–”

“Is that Mama?” She heard the excited voice of her son, and her breath hitched.

“Kenta? Kenta! Where are–”

“Yup!” He interrupted, “Don’t worry, bud. We’ll be seein’ Mama real soon, right?”

“Mhmm!” Came the muffled reply. So she wasn’t on speaker. Good.

“If you don’t tell me where he is right now,” The words were shaky, “I’ll call the fucking cops.”

There was a beat before a deep, baritone laughter filled her ears. He sighed, and she could feel the goddamn smile on his face.

“Hey, Kenta!” He called, “You wanna tell Mama what we’re doin?”

“S’ a surprise!”

“Hear that?” He turned back to the phone, “It’s a surprise. Don’t you worry, Mama,” He exhaled a bit through his nose, “We’ll be home for dinner.”

“What are you–”

And the line went dead.

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking goddamn shitfuck.

She was shaking with anger as she lowered the phone, scared that if she so much as breathed she’d scream so loud it’d bulldoze half of Tokyo.

What the fuck was she going to do?

.♡.

There was a knock at the door, and she ripped it open, shocked it hadn’t fallen from the hinges. She looked up to meet his eyes, something playful twinkling in them. Did he think this was a joke?

“Mama, Mama!” Her gaze was pulled down to the little boy clutching the man’s hand, “Guess what? Guess what?”

“Ah,” He sighed, “Remember, bud. It’s a super special surprise.”

Kenta looked up at him as if realizing something before humming happily. She swallowed as she glanced between them, settling her gaze on the hero.

“Kenta,” Eyes still locked with burning red, “Why don’t you go clean up before dinner?”

“Mkay!” And he bounded off towards his room. When she heard the slam of his door, she let out a sigh, and swallowed, steadying her nerves.

“What the absolute fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Language, sweetheart.” He sidestepped her, making his way inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Lang–?” He wasn’t serious, “Who do you think you—”

“Shouldn’t curse in front of Kenta,” He smiled, “It’ll teach him bad habits, y’know?”

Oh my god she’d never wanted to punch someone as much as she did now. She forced herself to breathe before settling.

“You don’t need to worry about Kenta’s habits,” He yawned, and she fought the urge to scream, “I want to know what you’re doing in my house, picking my son up from school like you–”

“That’s a funny way a’ sayin’ thank you for the favor.”

“Are you–”

“I know how busy you get,” He moved towards her, and she took a step back, and another until she hit the wall. Not again. “Wanted to give you a break. What’s the harm in that?”

He was looking down at her like that again. Like there was a game they were playing where only he knew the rules. Where he was winning.

“The harm,” She forced herself to speak, “Is that I gave you explicit instru–”

“Y’know,” He leaned back a bit, head tilted to the ceiling before snapping his eyes back to her, “Women are so complicated. Never sayin’ what you mean, what you need–”

“Let me be very clear, then,” She breathed, “Get out.”

He looked at her a moment, and she cursed the universe for not gifting her an invisibility quirk. Any quirk, actually. She was sure that, if he wanted, he could kill her without so much as blinking.

And then he laughed. She stood, frozen, studying his expression before his lips fell into a smirk. In a flash, his hand met her throat, squeezing the air from her lungs, and lifting her to her tiptoes. Her own hands flew up to claw at his, choking on her breath. His face was in front of hers, nose to her own.

“I’m gettin’ real sick of bein’ told what to do,” The edges of her vision were going black as his hot breath met her face, “I think you owe me an apology, baby.”

There were tears forming in her eyes, and she nearly, stubbornly, thought she’d rather pass out than give him the satisfaction. But the distant sound of running water forced her lips to move.

“So–Sor–Sorry, ple-please–”

He released her, and she doubled over, falling into a coughing fit, hand clutching at her own throat, sure of the forming bruises. He huffed a sigh, as if somehow she was inconveniencing him.

He leaned down again as she straightened against the wall. And he smiled. What was–

Before she could blink, his lips were pressed against her own. Her hands came to push at his chest, but he pulled back before she could move. He huffed a laugh, ruffling her hair.

“All good?”

All good? She forced down the protests, and nodded. She didn’t know this man. Didn’t know what he could do.

“It’s gettin’ kinda late, huh?” She realized after a moment that he was looking for an answer.

“I–Yes, I–” She cleared her throat of the raspiness, “I guess it is.”

He stretched his arms over his head, “Think I’ll stay the night, that okay?”

Fucking bastard. She went to open her mouth, but the sound of small footsteps padding against the floor caught her attention. She turned to see Kenta, hair dripping, in his matching set pajamas, making his way into the room.

“Hey, bud,” The man turned to him, “Guess what?”

“What?” He tilted his head.

He smirked as he glanced back at her, “We’re havin’ a sleepover.”

“Really?” Kenta jumped a bit in excitement.

His eyes were still on her. Red and burning and waiting.

She cleared her throat, “Real–Really, baby, if,” She glanced nervously between them, “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah! We’re gonna have so much fun!”

“So much fun,” The man confirmed, “Right,” Looking around, he made his way to the dining room table, “What’s for dinner?”

.♡.

“Damn,” He whistled from behind her, hands rubbing up her sides, settling on her hips, “You tryna steal my brand?”

He huffed a laugh, lips falling to a smirk as his face fell to her neck, eyes trailing her figure in the mirror in front of them.

“Guess red is your color now, baby.” His nose brushed against her neck as he raised his head, taking in a breath, and pressed a wet kiss to her cheek.

She tried her hardest not to cringe, managing to keep her disgust contained with the clench of her jaw. The dress was beautiful; she would have felt beautiful had anyone else on the planet gifted it to her, but they didn’t, and she didn’t. There was a much too revealing slit running up one of the sides of the dress. With fabric skin tight and blood red, she felt more like someone’s dress-up doll than a person.

“This is it, right?” She sighed, meeting his eyes in the mirror, her own expression dull, tired, “You get your rank boosted, and that’s it. We’re done. Right? ”

She knew logically, in the far back of her mind, that this was about something entirely more sinister than simply a number as inconsequential, as temporary as a hero rank. The crimson eyes in the mirror glowed with a feeling she could only attribute to possession.

But, stupidly, naively, she was clinging to some hope, any hope, that that was what he wanted. Because if it wasn’t, if he wanted any more, she feared she’d break to pieces on her bedroom floor. And if she allowed herself even a second, and the cracks appeared, she’d be burdening her son with the shattered mess that would be her resolve.

So she wouldn’t break. If only to keep that bright smile on Kenta’s face, eyes innocent, shield him from anything and everything big and bad in the world like a mother would. Like a mother should.

She wouldn’t break.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” He sighed, a sleazy smile still on his lips as his hands began to move, to grope, “After tonight; we won’t have to play pretend anymore.”

One arm wrapped around her middle, pulling her tight against him, something poking at her back. His other hand traveled downwards, fingers slipping past that easy access slit, and–

“Mama, mama, look!” As quickly as he pulled her to him, he stepped away, turning to the little boy bounding through the door.

“You like the suit, bud?” How generous he was, he’d reminded her. He had all the money in the world to take care of them. She just had to let him. As if it were that easy. Asshole.

But she swallowed the anger, sending a soft smile to her son, taking in the child standing tall and proud in his small, tailored suit, grinning up at them for approval. At them. She faltered a bit before willing the nausea away.

“Wow,” She sighed, making her way to Kenta, crouching down as she fixed his red tie. The three of them really did look like a matching set, didn’t they? “Who’s this handsome man? Have you seen Kenta? I can’t seem to find him!”

“It’s me! Kenta! Here, I’m right here!” He squealed, waving his arms a bit in front of her.

“No,” She smiled wryly, “Kenta likes to come home covered in dirt lookin’ super cool.”

“Well now I’m all dressed up and super cool!” He crossed his arms petulantly, and she relented, laughing lightly.

“Oh, silly me,” She stood, having fixed his tie, “Of course, only Kenta could look this cool.”

“Mhmm!”

The low laughter behind her was like ice water in her veins. Right. He was still here. He came up behind her, arm wrapping around her hips as he smiled down at her son.

“You all ready, bud?”

“Yup!” Kenta jumped excitedly, “And I remembered, just like you said! I got the–”

“Surprise, kiddo.” The man hummed.

“Oh,” Kenta’s eyes widened before nodding intently, “Right. Surprise.” She didn’t want to dwell on the way her son looked at the man beside her with the reverence of something like a father.

The hero sent him a wink, and the little boy gave him a mismatched eye blink in response. She clenched her jaw, fingernails digging into her palms. Days. Days, and he hadn’t budged on this surprise of his. She felt like she’d throw up if she thought about it too long. So she forced it to the back of her mind.

She couldn’t break.

He turned back to her, fingers squeezed at the fat of her waist, thumb brushing affectionately against the fabric.

“You ready?”

.♡.

The lights flashing in her face left her feeling dizzy, and clutching tightly to the man by her side as they stepped from the limo. Blindly, she grasped for her son’s hand behind her as they marched forward, through the chaos.

They stopped in front of a row of reporters. A press line, she realized grimly. She let her mind wander as he fielded questions about the upcoming hero ranking announcement, chuckling lightly as reporter after reporter speculated about the nature and history of their relationship. About the oh so adorable little boy bouncing at their side.

He waved them off after a while, “I’m real sorry!” Sheepishly, a hand came to scratch at his head, “But, the little lady’s not used to all the cameras just yet.” Yet? No, push it down. Smile, she reminded herself, glancing at her son, who was rocking on his heels back and forth beside her. Oblivious. Good.

He huffed an apologetic laugh as the crowd protested, “‘Sides, we’d better get inside,” He threw a disarming smile over his shoulder, a hand raised to the crowd, “Wish me luck!”

They made their way inside, and she scanned the room, Kenta gasping next to her at the gathering of heroes. His heroes.

They made their way to their seats, and she recognized a few of the heroes gathered around them. She zoned out as a few of the men shoved her hero by the shoulder, jeering at him for finally settling down. A few of the women cooing over Kenta; how quaint! God, she wanted to scream.

She was brought back to reality when the grip on her hand turned deadly. Wincing, she turned towards him.

“I’m sorry,” She forced a sheepish smile, “Guess I’m just a little overwhelmed. What was the question?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the suspicious gaze of that ash blonde hero. The one who blew the city to bits every chance he got. He scoffed as he sized her up, turning away, downing his drink. She swallowed, turning away in unease.

“How’d this oaf convince ya, huh?” The lightning blonde laughed, “Money? No way a chick as hot as–oof!” One of the women, that pink hero, she recognized, elbowed him in the stomach, and the man doubled over, spitting up his drink, “Shit! What was that for?”

She turned away from the interaction as the woman began to scold him, and a few others took the opportunity to ask about her relationship to their friend.

How’d you get together?

Yeah! Tell us everything!

Where’d he take you on your first date?

It wasn’t the gym, right? Please tell me it wasn’t the gym!

And more. Her cheeks hurt from the forced quirk of her lips, fingers aching under the table from the deathgrip her tormentor had on her hand. She gave them the answers she thought appropriate.

He saved my son’s life.

Just a casual dinner. Nothing big.

His grip relented a bit, and she sighed. Kissing her on the cheek, he leaned back, a lovesick glaze overtaking his eyes that even his friends seemed to notice, because the jeers started up again.

“Alright, alright,” He placated with a smile, “You got your answers. Quit scarin’ the lady, already.”

They protested lightly, but settled. Just in time. The lights started to dim, and a spotlight shone on stage. The entirely too enthusiastic announcer began to speak, hyping up the crowd at the fast approaching ranking release.

As the minutes ticked by on the clock, she realized his name hadn’t been called yet. Most of the heroes at her table had sat by in silence so far. And then the host flashed a knowing smile, reminding the crowd of the moment they’d been waiting for.

The Top Ten.

Oh. Was that it? If he was in the top ten, would that mean she did her job? Served her purpose. Would he leave her be, then?

She turned to watch Kenta, whose eyes were glued to the stage, wide in awe, ears hanging on every word. She selfishly wished he wouldn’t become one of those people who worshiped the hero society she’d found herself trapped in.

But she could see it happening in real time, she supposed. The way he clung to the man who’d saved him from the rubble. The merch and toys that now littered their home, posters plastered around his bedroom walls. The way his eyes seemed to light up at the mention of his favorite hero’s name. She could almost hear the moment her heart started to crack.

All of a sudden, the people around her stood up, screaming. Kenta jumped to his feet, hands raised in the air as an open-mouthed smile overtook his face.

No. 8 Hero.

No. 8.

He reached a hand around her back, twirling her towards him, dipping her as his lips forced themselves on hers, tongue shoved down her throat. The cheers only erupted further. As she was pulled back to her feet, dizzy and unfocused, she barely registered as he made his way to the stage, bowing in thanks.

The rest of the names flew by in a blur, a few of his friends stepping up to join him as the list reached its end. But she paid no mind. It was over now. Right?

It was over. Could it please be over?

.♡.

They were outside again, and the cold night air nipped at her skin. Ushered back into the press line, she watched him desperately as he began to speak to reporters.

What an honor. I wasn’t expecting this. I’ll do my best to earn it!

She wanted to laugh until she screamed. But she was waiting. Waiting for him to say it. Release her. Release them. Say it. Please, say it.

“I owe it to all the support I’ve got behind me.” He smiled, squeezing their interlocked hands, “I really am the luckiest guy in the world, Number 8 or not.” No.

“There isn’t anything I can do to thank her,” He sighed, letting out a sheepish laugh, “But, I did prepare a little surprise.”

He turned to glance at Kenta, “We had a little surprise, actually.” Not that. Don’t say that.

The crowd awed, cooing at the scene, reporters on the edge of their seats, eager to hear more. She knew it was coming. She knew it. And yet, still, some part of her, some stupid part of her grasped for that single thread. She couldn’t fall. If she fell, she’d break.

“You ready, bud?” Stop it. She was starting to lose her grip on the thread.

“Mhmm!” Kenta hummed, fumbling for something in his pocket. “Right here!”

The thread was fraying. His small hands produced a velvet red box, and the crowd took a breath. She watched as her son reached past her, handing the weapon to the perpetrator. She hadn’t the time to process the burning betrayal in her chest. Because suddenly, she was falling.

And then he kneeled, looking up at her imploringly, that twinkle in his eyes sparkling. He’d finally won that game of his that only he was playing. Further down and down. And–

“Will you marry me?” That shark toothed smile flashed up at her; she felt the fangs ripping her heart to shreds.

And she shattered.

639 notes · View notes

curls-and-crosses · 10 months

Text

A Spotted Mind

WARNINGS: yandere, abuse of power, possessiveness, nsfw, smut, non-consensual implications, implied kidnapping

A/N: i'm not sure how i feel about this, but it took me longer than it should've, so i'm posting it. ^^

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! SHINSO HITOSHI X READER

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, I know it isn’t exactly fair, but–”

“No. I mean, I don’t understand.” Calloused hands ran through purple locks, pulling, tugging, anything to alleviate the building frustration.

“Years. Years risking my life, years saving lives, years doing everything a hero is supposed to fucking do.” There was a humourless laugh cutting through the words.

This couldn’t be fucking happening. He started pacing, hands unsure, clenching and unclenching their fists, rubbing down his face.

“And where does that get me? Back in elementary school apparently, where everyone’s scared of the freak with the villain’s quirk.” His eyes hardened, flashing with memories he thought he’d long buried, fears he had long killed.

“Stop.” His former mentor’s voice, monotonous as ever, made him pause; he turned to meet his eyes–well eye and eye patch. “Those are the terms, like it or not. And while I, personally, err on the side of not, that won’t get us anywhere.”

“So what? I don’t have any choice? Let the Hero Commission fuck about with my life all they want, or give up my hero license? You can’t be serious.”

The black haired man sighed, “Things are a little different than in my day, kid. Even underground heroes have to appeal to the public now–”

He scoffed, “I’d hardly say I’m the most unlikeable hero. Or did they happen to forget the guy who explodes buildings and yells at reporters like it’s a sport? Oh, but he’s number two, and makes tween girls wet, so fuck me, I guess.”

“You can sit here throwing a pity party for yourself, if that’s what you want. But you have a choice to make: give up the dream you’ve worked so hard to achieve, the dream you’ve bled for, the dream people have died for…” Uncrossing his arms, his mentor pushed off the wall.

“Or,” He headed for the door, hand catching on the frame, “Go to therapy.”

He paused, turning; a sly smile played at his lips, “Who knows, you might actually like it.”

. ♡ .

“Nice to meet you! No…Nice to meet you! Ugh, that’s worse. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

She huffed out a sigh, smoothing over her pencil skirt in the floor length mirror, and shook the nerves from her body. She squared her face into a serious expression, reaching a hand towards her reflection.

“Nice to meet you, Mr…” Her hand hung mid air, eyes searching the ceiling for an answer before she groaned, smacking a hand over her face. “What am I even supposed to call him? His hero name? Or…is that too impersonal?”

She started pacing, “No. You don’t know him, you aren’t friends.” Her hands rubbed at her face, “But this is supposed to be a comfortable environment.”

She didn’t hear the knock at her door as she muttered to herself, “Hero name or real name. Hero name or real name…eenie meenie–”

“Uhh, am I interrupting something?”

She yelped, jumping a bit in her skin, before scrambling to contain herself.

“Ah! Hello!” She cleared her throat in an attempt to rid herself of the squeakiness, “Hello, it’s nice to meet you, Mr–” She tripped over the plush chair in front of her on her way to greet him, only to be caught by toned arms instead of old leather.

He helped her up as she dusted herself off, flustered, and embarrassed. Looking into lilac eyes, she found indifference and annoyance. How should she deal with this?

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. That was incredibly unprofessional.” She sighed, introducing herself, “How would you like me to address you?”

He gave her his name, “I’m not exactly a working hero right now, anyway.” His face twisted in irritation, and she made a mental note, painting a pleasant smile on her lips.

“The Hero Commission informed me of your situation. I promise, spend the next six months with me, and I’ll send you home with a stamp of approval, and then you can get right back to saving lives.” She giggled a bit, reaching a hand to her face like a schoolgirl sharing a secret, “But, between you and me, I think this is complete bullshit.”

His eyes widened a fraction in surprise, softening a bit, and she fist pumped in her mind. Nailed it!

“In any case, we should get started. Sit, please.” She gestured to the couch across from them, and he took a seat. She cleared her throat as she sat herself in her chair, “I assume you know why you’re here with me today?”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah.”

A beat. Nope, okay, that’s all she was getting right now. Time to change tactics.

“You know, since we’re going to be spending a lot of time together these next few months, it might be best to get to know each other a bit before diving in head first. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

His eyes scanned her, analyzing, sizing her up, “You look a little young to be a therapist.”

Internally she sighed, she was expecting that one, “I’m twenty-four, so you’re technically correct. However, I assure you, I am more than qualified.”

He scoffed a bit, “What, am I your first client or something?”

“As someone who has worked as a hero since age fifteen, I’m sure you understand that there is no age requirement to start helping people.” She supposed it was her fault for opening this door in the first place.

He huffed, rolling his eyes, “Whatever you say, doc.”

Well, that was annoying. She sighed, No, she could do this.

“Do you know why the Hero Commission sent you to me?”

“Like I said, I–”

“No.” She kept the pleasant smile on her face. No time like the present, she supposed, “I mean, why they sent you to me.”

He was growing agitated, she could tell, “No.”

“Well, I may know a thing or two about having a villainous quirk.”

. ♡ .

So she could read minds. Big deal. He kicked a stray rock along the sidewalk as he walked home. He huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. That was hardly villainous. It’s not like she could do anything with that. He could mind control, for fuck’s sake.

But, he paused, he supposed he could see her point. He’d spent a good part of their hour and a half session on edge, wondering if she had looked into his mind, violated his privacy.

She had given him a sheepish smile, and assured him she wouldn’t use her quirk without his permission. To which he became even more suspicious. If she wasn’t reading his mind, how did she know what he was thinking?

“How do I know what you’re thinking if I’m not reading your mind, right?” She’d giggled. He had had half a mind to walk out right there.

“Believe it or not, you’re an incredibly easy person to read. Your emotions are written all over your face.”

Well, fuck you too, then. No one on the planet had ever told him that. In fact, he took pride in the monotonous, uncaring mask he’d perfected over the years.

“Oh, please don’t take offense,” She fiddled with her fingers before looking back up at him, “it’s…a side effect. Of my quirk. I can’t really turn that part off–the…understanding people part.”

She was an endearing little thing, he’d give her that. “S’fine.” He’d avoided her gaze in part embarrassment, and part annoyance. No. He wasn’t supposed to like her. This whole thing was happening against his will.

He huffed out a sigh, eyes following the setting sun. Six months. Six months, and he’d be free. He could do that. But he’d be damned if he enjoyed it.

. ♡ .

“Bullshit.”

She laughed, almost doubling over when she met his dull eyes, “I’m serious!”

“You’re just trying to one up me right now; there’s no way you got expelled for using your quirk,” He scoffed.

“I did!” She stifled her laughter to explain, “Granted, I’d read the teacher’s mind to get answers to a test, so it wasn’t completely unwarranted.”

He quirked an eyebrow, and she knew she was being judged, “In my defense, I was like twelve, and terrible at algebra.”

He remained unimpressed, “So you cheated,” he crossed his arms, “How did they even know you used it?”

“Well, I have to make eye contact, you know,” He nodded as she explained, “So, it’s not exactly discreet, but–”

“Okay, but if you’re in someone’s mind, how would they know that?”

“Let me finish! So, I’m flipping through Mrs. Kamakura’s mind, and–”

“Flipping?”

“Mhmm! People’s minds are like…storybooks. You get little flashes of images as you–sort of think of it as–as you’re flipping the page,” She paused, “Wait, you don’t get that?”

“What the fuck? No, IMAX, I don’t get that. It’s like…” He trailed off, eyes searching for the explanation, “It’s like once I’ve got them, I’m holding a leash, and wherever I guide, they follow. There’s no image, just a feeling of…control.”

She blinked, and he nearly cursed himself for freaking her out, only to be met with the sound of laughter, “Wait, wait, so–oh my god–that’s like, you gotta know that sounds kinky as fuck, right?”

He felt his face heat, and while he knew he should be disgusted, he let his mind flash with an image: he had to admit, she’d look good like that, at his feet, eyes wide, thighs pressed together in anticipation of what he’d make her do next—thank god she was too much of a goody two shoes to look inside.

He squared his face back to neutral, “I could have your license revoked for that, you know.”

She settled, a warm smile at her lips as she shrugged, “You’re more than welcome to take your complaints up with the Hero Commission, but I can’t guarantee your next therapist will be nearly as fun as me.”

He rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile, “You’re hardly a therapist.”

“Oh my god,” She gasped mockingly, “You are so rude! No wonder you got stuck with me.”

He laughed, and as he caught sight of the twinkle in her eyes, a feeling he couldn’t quite place bubbled in his chest.

. ♡ .

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Look, I know it’s not exactly a pleasant memory, but–”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it.” He crossed his arms, avoiding her gaze.

She sighed out his name, “You’ve been coming to see me for a few weeks now, and we have yet to even talk about the reason you’re here in the first place.” She really did like talking casually with him, but she had a job to do, never mind how he huffed at her like a petulant child.

“You’re the one who said that reason is bullshit, so I don’t know why you’re pressing the issue.”

Yep. She knew that would come back to bite her.

“Just because it’s bullshit doesn’t mean it has no consequences,” She was trying so hard to stay the good guy; she finally felt like he’d started to trust her, “I understand what it’s like to–”

“You don’t understand anything. So you got kicked out of school when you were twelve for cheating on a test,” He scoffed, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have the people you’re trying to help look at you like you’re a—like you’re a fucking monster?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.

“No, you don’t,” His eyebrows knit together in frustration, “I’m out there trying to save the lives of people who hate me while you’re in here making small talk with whoever’s unlucky enough to pass through your door. It’s not the same thing.”

There was a beat of silence, and something twisted in his chest when he caught a glimpse of the kicked puppy look that crossed her face. Before he could apologize she began speaking.

She rolled her lip between her teeth, sighing, “You know, you’re the first hero client I’ve ever had.” He opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn’t finished, “I mean, technically, you were right, I haven’t really had clients before, either.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, “Then, what–”

“I told you I was expelled from school when I was twelve, but I never told you that that was the last school I ever went to,” A melancholy look glazed over her eyes, “Somewhere along the line, don’t ask me how, the Hero Commission was informed of my quirk–apparently mind reading is rarer than you think.”

She started to fiddle and pull at her fingers as she avoided his gaze, “I spent the next six years in special schooling, before interrogating captured villains for the Hero Commission,” A humourous laugh left her, “my parents were just so excited at the prospect of their little girl being some type of hero.”

“But, you know,” Her voice started to shake, “When you’re invading someone’s mind, stealing their thoughts, no matter how many bad things they’ve done, no matter how villainous they claim to be,” she swallowed the unshed tears, eyes hardening, “When they fight, and claw, and beg for you to just please, get out of their head, you don’t feel like anyone’s hero.”

He knew the feeling well, and as he listened, he found a sort of familiarity in her words. Had anyone been able to put his thoughts into words before?

She smiled a bitter smile, “So, yeah, I know what it’s like to be looked at like a…fucking monster.”

He swallowed, hating the break in her voice. “I didn’t know that.”

She cleared her throat, “As the years went by, I wasn’t just interrogating villains, I was talking to them, helping them,” Her eyes shifted, “They’re people too, you know. They deserve a chance just like the rest of us–to change.”

That bubbling feeling in his chest started to boil. He decided he kind of liked it. The warmth of it. Of her.

She huffed out another laugh, “So imagine my surprise when the Hero Commission came to me with a new challenge. Not a villain. But a hero. A hero to help.” She finally met his gaze, “You.”

. ♡ .

She tossed a few newspaper articles on the glass table in between them, gesturing for him to sort through them. He rolled his eyes, reluctantly obliging.

“Well?” She asked earnestly.

He quirked a brow, lifting his gaze to meet hers, “Well?”

“How do those articles make you feel?”

He scoffed, “Oh, fuck off.”

She laughed lightly, “I’m serious. Come on, tell me. How do they make you feel?”

“You know, for a fake therapist, you’re awfully stereotypical.”

“Now you fuck off, I’m not a fake therapist,” Her lips pulled into a crooked grin, “You know, if you don’t wanna talk about it, I could always take a peek? Would just take a second.” Her smile turned mischievous.

He hated the way his chest warmed, a smile pulling at his lips, “What, you spill your deep dark secrets to me, and it only takes two months to start threatening me?”

“I’m not threatening you.”

The singsong in her voice made him want to take her over his knee. Brat. Wait. Fuck–he really needed to stop thinking of her like that. But he couldn’t help the way his cheeks heated as he imagined it.

Ass on full display, glowing red. Hands numb as he trapped them in one of his own while she cried. Her hair sticking to her face with the wetness, begging for his forgiveness. He’d give it to her, of course he would. But, he’d tell her, stroking the dome of his canvas, she needed to earn it first.

He shook himself from his thoughts and rolled his eyes playfully, turning back to the articles.

‘UNDERGROUND HEROES: ARE THEY REALLY HERE TO PROTECT YOU?’

and another few with his hero name plastered at the top,

‘MIND CONTROL HERO USES QUIRK ON UNSUSPECTING CIVILIANS’

and

‘HERO OR VILLAIN IN DISGUISE? THE TRUTH ABOUT AN UNDERGROUND HERO.’

“I feel like these are complete bullshit.”

She looked unimpressed, “Bullshit is not a feeling.”

He searched her eyes for mercy, and found none, “Fine,” he groaned, “I feel angry. I feel like no matter what I do, I just can’t fucking win; I’m always the bad guy, like this one–”

He pulled up the second article, “Unsuspecting civilians?” He scoffed, “I was responding to a domestic violence call, sue me for telling a guy to stop beating his wife.”

“And this one,” He pulled out another, “What, villain in disguise? Just cause the paparazzi got a picture of me half awake at four in the goddamn morning, and I had the audacity to look annoyed?”

He went on, listing the problems with each and every one, before sighing. “I just don’t understand. Tabloids print stupid rumours about heroes all the time, but because of my quirk, everyone thinks they somehow must be true?”

He was getting heated, hands becoming animated as he spoke, “What? I make one real mistake, and I’m suddenly like some burnt out celebrity who gets sent to rehab, so that they can get back in society’s good graces. It’s…bullshit.”

“You know,” He laughed a bit in disbelief, “I don’t give a shit if you’re a fake therapist or not, I’m telling you this in confidence, okay?” He looked up at her.

Startled a bit at the abrupt pause, her eyebrows raised, but she nodded quickly in affirmation, gesturing for him to continue.

“It’s almost like they want me to be a villain,” he huffed, hands pulling at his hair, “And…and sometimes…sometimes I feel like…maybe I’d be better off as one.”

His eyes shifted, “No,” searching desperately for the words, “That’s not true,” he sighed, hands rubbing at his face.

“For once,” he lifted his gaze, “Just for once, I’d like to be someone’s hero,” his eyes seemed to burn so intensely into hers that she had to remind herself to breathe.

“I want someone to look at me and think, that’s my hero.”

. ♡ .

She fiddled with her fingers as she stood in front of the boardroom, willing herself not to rock back and forth on her heels. Her eyes scanned the room, searching the faces for any discernible shifts in emotion.

“And you’re positive?” One of the men finally spoke, “It’s only been four months–the agreement was six.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by another, scratchier voice.

“You’re kidding, right?” He scoffed, “four months of chitchat, and you’re ready to send him back into the field?”

Someone else cleared their throat, “I’m inclined to agree–the severity of the situation demands more promising results than simply your word.”

She nodded, and, at the ensuing silence, realized that was her cue, “Ah! Yes, well. I really do think we’ve made progress. Of course, I’m willing to wait two more months, but–”

“But he has some of the best capture numbers on the Hero Billboard,” The man at the head of the table interrupted, “It’s in our best interest to get him back to work as soon as possible. If you’re sure we can assure the public of the anomaly of the matter–”

“She hasn’t even used her quirk,” The man with the scratchy voice interrupted, “At least give us that assurance,” He scoffed, “The man publicly dismembered a villain on national television.”

“With all do respect, sir, he didn’t dismember anyone,” She interjected, letting her annoyance get the better of her for a moment before containing herself, “While I agree the reaction was extreme–”

“And the fact that children watched as a man ripped his own limbs off.” Another scoffed.

She cleared her throat, “Yes, well,” Her eyes shifted, searching for the answer, “Had he done nothing, none of those children would have lived to see another day–lest we forget the damage those limbs were capable of–he’s a hero, at the end of the day,” She was getting heated again, “He did his job; we should all be grateful.”

There was a beat of silence as the words were absorbed, and the man at the head of the table finally spoke, “I trust your judgment,” Her eyes nearly lit up, but then, “But, I also see the appeal of assurance we can give the public. Look into his mind–the knowledge that this won’t happen again, that he isn’t a threat, will ensure we don’t end up right back here in a few months time.”

She deflated, but regained her composure, swallowing the unease building in her chest, “Yes, sir.”

. ♡ .

“No fucking way.”

“Oh, come on! I just wanna know what it feels like. You’re the only person I’ve met with a quirk even similar to mine–”

“I said, No.”

“How ‘bout we make a deal?” She stamped down the building feelings of guilt–this was the only way to help him, really help him.

He turned the words over in his mind, “What deal?”

Stop it. This is for the best. “You use your quirk on me, just like I asked.”

His eyes dulled, “I’m not seeing the deal part of this arrangement.”

“Hear me out,” There was a thrumming of anxiety in her chest, “You use your quirk on me, and to make it fair, I use mine on you. That way we’re both equally culpable.”

There was a beat of silence before he snorted, “Never knew you were such a pervert, doc.”

Her face heated, and she tripped over her words, “That’s not what I mean!” She huffed, collecting herself, “You don’t want to use your quirk on me, and I don’t want to use my quirk on you–this way, we both have to do something we don’t want.”

“Who says I want you in my mind, pervert?” His eyes narrowed playfully.

“Stop calling me that, or I swear I’ll make sure you’re stuck with me ‘till you die.”

“Would that be so terrible?” He surprised himself with the words, but the way her cheeks heated soothed his own embarrassment. Fine, he figured, he’d give her a bone. “Alright, alright, don’t blow a gasket, deal.”

“Really?” She nearly sighed from relief, but then he continued.

“But” He told her, “You better stay surface level, I don’t need you seeing all that dark shit in my brain.”

It was her turn to narrow her eyes, scanning him for a moment, before deciding, “...Do you look at foot fetish por–”

“Okay!” He interrupted, flustered, “ Deal’s off.”

“Nooo!” She whined, “I take it back, I was kidding, please.”

She paused a moment, “You know, you shouldn’t be ashamed, everyone has their own ki–”

“I swear to God, I’ll use my quirk on you just to get you to shut the fuck up.”

She hummed, content, “Lovely,” She gestured for him to continue, “take it away.”

He rolled his eyes, “I have to ask you a question, what are you, stupid?”

“Hey–!” And she was gone.

He found himself staring into blank pupils, and missing the color. Though, he couldn’t help the giddiness that bubbled in his chest of having her under his control. Fuck. He knew he shouldn’t have done this. She was wrong–he enjoyed the fantasy of this moment far too much–it was her fault for pressing the issue in the first place.

He shook himself from his thoughts, opting to scan across her body. How easy it would be. He thought. She wouldn’t even remember. He could be buried balls deep inside her, ruin her, and she’d be none the wiser. But, he sighed, he’d really rather her a conscious participant.

He glanced down at the table where a glass of water sat in front of her. She’d be so pissed. But, he’d be able to see her tits through her ruined white blouse without committing a felony. Yeah, that would do just fine.

“Pick up that glass of water.” She obeyed. “Pour it over yourself.” She did. Well, fuck. He knew he’d enjoy the view, but felt embarrassed at the growing tightness in his pants.

I mean, he hadn’t let her go just yet–he could alleviate himself–No. He told himself. He promised he’d behave. He waited a little while for the bulge in his pants to die down before releasing her.

“Wha–” She groaned, but it fell to a whine when she felt the wetness on her chest, “Are you kidding me? You are such an asshole!”

He huffed out a laugh as she lamented the ruined shirt, “Hey, you made your bed–I told you I didn’t want to do it.”

“Fuck you,” she said, stamping, and twisting at the shirt with her hands, “You owe me a new shirt.”

He shrugged, “Your turn, doc,” He paused, would she see those dirty thoughts of his? “Surface level, okay? Surface level.”

She nodded, smiling a bit when he handed her his jacket–-only for her to use it as a towel, wiping at her shirt. He really couldn’t win, could he?

“It’ll be easier to do that if you relax,” She adjusted herself in her seat, meeting his eyes, “That way, no stray thoughts pop up in your brain that you don’t want me to see. Otherwise, I won’t be able to control what I find.”

He wondered if she was aware of his thoughts already, but a look in her eyes, and he found nothing but earnest innocence, trust. He sighed internally, the shit he’d do for her.

“Fire away, doc.”

It was always a bit strange at first. Storybook analogy aside, everyone’s mind formulated its thoughts a bit differently, and each time she’d have to navigate a different type of maze. She made a point to look only for what she came for, no matter how curious she became. But, as she sorted through his mind, she couldn’t find any truly villainous thoughts.

She sighed internally; she was right. The Hero Commission was wrong. And now, she could give him what he’s wanted these past few months, and send him on his way. Though, she found herself a bit disappointed she wouldn’t be seeing him around anymore. No, she shook herself from her thoughts, Don’t be selfish.

Nothing out of the ordinary; she should leave before things became more complicated, and as if the universe could read her mind, she was met with a flood of thoughts.

He watched as she sat across from him, eyes boring into his, mind elsewhere–well mind inside his. Think normal thoughts, he repeated, think normal thoughts. His eyes caught sight of the sheer fabric sticking to her skin, and he felt himself slip.

There was a flash of him bent over a woman on a desk, her desk–was that her? Her wrists caught in a deadlock by his hand as he rammed into her. She was crying out for him, back arched, ass pressing into the hips that slammed against her. Fuck me. His other hand wound around her hair, yanking her head up to look at him. Fuck me! Kissing up her neck, his teeth left bruises in their wake.

Love me. Sweat dripped down from his brow, and he licked up her cheek, biting at her earlobe. Love me! He took her jaw in his fingers, turning her face to kiss her–she was sure that was her now. Spit glossed their lips as he pulled back, rutting into her in a way that had pornographic whines forced from her throat, drool coating her chin, and staining the desk below them. Her face heated, and she scrambled to leave his mind before finding something newer, something more disturbing.

Oh my god, she thought. Was he walking her on a fucking leash? No. Don’t kinkshame. That’s fine–

Yes, Master. The woman, this abomination that was her, purred. Whatever you want, Master.

He watched her face as she knelt below him. Fingers running down between her tresses and pulling, letting her whine, and squeal, choking as he guided her bloated lips up and down and up and down his cock. Come on, He told her, Beg me, a sharp smile, canines dripping, Beg me to let you breathe. Her tears wet the purple tuft at his v-line, lips stained with precum, eyes shiny and wide, looking up at him as she tried not to spasm from the bulge shoved halfway down her throat. Searching for approval.

It’s just a thought he can’t–

They were on a bed. She was crying–his hands around her throat, fingers curled into the collar secured tightly around her neck–as he fucked into her. Her eyes crossed, tongue hanging from her mouth as her tits rocked from the force. Sweat dripped from his abs to where her legs were spread by his hips. He mouthed at her tits, pulling a nipple between his teeth while he took the other breast in his hand, kneading, squeezing. She was squealing. Please, sir. That didn’t sound like her. Can I cum?

Her hands reached up to tug at his locks, but he forced them into the mattress, fingers intertwining with her own. He snorted, You cum when I say you can, pet. She whined as his hips sped their motions, moaning, and turning, trying and failing to pull her hands from beneath his grip.

Please, Master, can I cum Master? I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good, Master. That god forsaken collar tethered her to the bed like a glorified sex doll–little bell jingling each time he thrust into her. He laughed, and she couldn’t help the chill in her bones. Who do you belong to, huh? His breath ragged from exertion, Tell your Master who you belong to.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.

She forced herself out of his mind, heart threatening to break out of her chest.

He looked startled as she came to, and she willed her breathing to slow, swallowing the nerves screaming at her inside her mind. She couldn’t read the emotion that crossed his face, but his eyebrows raised as he waited for her to say something.

She let out a shaky breath, forcing out a laugh, “So,” She swallowed, “Kind of disappointed I didn’t find that foot fet–”

He snorted, “Fuck off,” She followed, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

. ♡ .

“So, that’s it?”

“There’s already a message out to the press,” His mentor told him, “You’re off the hook as soon as it airs.”

“But it’s only been four months?” This didn’t make sense, “What happened?”

“Must have made quite the impression on your therapist,” The older man snorted, “She went right to the Hero Commission, gave them a full clean bill of mental health.”

He knew he should be happy, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. “Can I talk to her?”

The man shrugged, “Don’t see why not, though,” A yawn cut through the words, “heard the Commission’s transferring her–something about the branch in America.”

His heart fell through his chest. She was leaving him without so much as a goodbye? Scratch that. She was leaving him.

“I at least owe her my thanks,” He sighed, eyes hardening in determination, “Let me meet with the Commission."

. ♡ .

She was dodging his calls. A part of her felt badly for her trepidation; he was attracted to her, so what? He was an attractive man. Even she had the stray thought now and then. She’d seen so much worse in the minds of villains, some things that still gave her nightmares. He’s a guy; of course he’s gonna be thinking about sex.

But there was a nagging feeling in the back of her head. She’d been in so many minds, his wasn’t any different. Except it was.

“It’s like once I’ve got them, I’m holding a leash, and wherever I guide, they follow. There’s no image, just a feeling of…control.”

Control.

That was it. He’d enjoyed it in his thoughts. She knew it. A palpable feeling in the atmosphere of his mind, drunk on the idea of controlling her.

She’d joked about his kinks, about sex. Maybe a bit unprofessional, in retrospect. But she was trying to lighten the mood. He was her patient, and she was there to help him, to get him to open up. Sue her for trying to be personable.

But it wasn’t just controlling her in the bedroom, where he imagined her beneath him, kneeling at his feet in reverence, like he was–

Like he was her hero. She realized.

“I want someone to look at me and think, that’s my hero.”

That’s what he had said. She thought it endearing at first, convinced he had more than earned his freedom, but…the way he looked at her,

“You better stay surface level, I don’t need you seeing all that dark shit in my brain.”

There was something darker. Something lurking under the surface. She couldn’t quite place it, losing herself in her thoughts. As she racked her brain for the answer, she didn’t hear the knock at the door.

“Am I interrupting something?”

She jumped, yelping as she turned to catch sight of the purple haired man standing too casually, too comfortably, in her doorway.

“Ah! Oh my god,” She cleared her throat of its squeakiness. She didn’t want to seem vulnerable. “You scared me.”

She stood, not so much to greet him, but in an effort to feel more secure. “Can I ask how you got my address?” She forced a laugh to lighten the atmosphere, “What, you stalking me or something?”

He shrugged, pushing the door closed as he made his way over to her, “Perks of being a working hero,” He paused as he neared her, “Thanks to you.”

Yeah. Way to go. She really tried not to back away as a hand came to brush at her hair, but her feet moved on their own. A look of hurt passed lilac eyes before settling on annoyance. Wow. You nailed it. Shut up.

He cleared his throat, “Heard you were leaving,” He studied her as her fingers started pulling at each other. Not a question. Good. Wait–why was she thinking about that?

“Yeah,” She thought she might rip off one of her fingers with the tension, “They’re opening a new rehabilitation program in–”

“You didn’t say goodbye.” He stepped closer. You know him. Stop freaking out.

“Yes, well, I’m s–” She stepped backward.

“You know,” His eyes flickered to where her hands fidgeted, “You do that when you’re nervous.” A step forward.

“I’m not–” Another step backward.

He sighed, “I told you to stay surface level.” His eyes shifted, and he huffed, “If you’d just stayed surface level,” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She forced a laugh, “I don’t know what you’re–”

“Cut that out.”

She sighed, “I’m sorry,” Maybe he was just angry at her for violating his privacy. That must be it. “That was wrong of me. I understand if–”

“Honestly, did me a favor,” He huffed out a laugh. What. “Don’t know if I’d ever have had the guts in the first place,” Oh. Was this a confession?

She breathed out his name, “Everyone has feelings,” This was fine. Deescalation. This would work. “And you can’t control all your thoughts. Maybe we should start over.”

He looked at her a moment, eyes widening a fraction before softening. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Almost out of the woods. “Would’ve hated for it to go the other way.” The other way?

“The other way?” It tumbled from her mouth before she could stop it.

He shook his head, “Nevermind,” He looked around, “I’ll help you unpack.” What?

“Unpack?” She felt like a goddamn parrot at this point.

“Well, yeah,” He said it as if it were obvious, “Can’t start over if you’re halfway across the world.”

He was being purposely obtuse, right? This was a joke?

She laughed, but his face remained neutral. She cleared her throat, Professional. Be Professional. “While I appreciate the humour, there are people who need my help in Am–”

“You know, The Hero Commission are fucking terrified of me,” he said, eyes hardening, as if gathering resolve. Where was this going?

“Should’ve realized sooner,” His eyes were cutting into hers, “They’d do just about anything to keep up their image.” He stepped forward again.

“Do anything to keep from another incident,” Her back hit the wall. This was wrong. Everything was wrong.

“You said it yourself, I’m not a villain,” Something shifted, and she saw a glimpse of the kind man she’d come to know these past months. He was gone the next second, “I’d really hate it if you made me a villain.”

“Listen, I’m not sure what–”

“Let’s make a deal,” He smirked, “You use your quirk on me, and to make it fair, I use mine on you. That way we’re both equally culpable.”

“I don’t want to–”

“You don’t want to use your quirk on me, and I don’t want to use my quirk on you–this way, we both have to do something we don’t want.”

He was using her own goddamn words against her.

“You go first,” He brought his face to her level, hand pressed to the wall above her, “C’mon, fire away, doc.” She whimpered, She tried to rationalize the situation in her mind. She knew this man. Didn’t she?

Stall, and you’ll figure a way out. Maybe she could find something useful in his mind.

She nodded, swallowing. She shook her nerves, feeling drowned by the lilac eyes in front of her. It wasn’t like the last time she’d been inside. Everything he’d been keeping under the surface bubbled up, overwhelming all her senses. It was suffocating. It was fucking terrifying.

She didn’t like this. She didn’t understand this. What the fuck was she seeing?

“Hey,” His other hand took her jaw between his fingers, eyes inside his mind, but ears open, “How does it feel, huh?” His lips were brushing hers.

“How does it feel to be able to see every single thing I’m gonna do to you, and not be able to do a damn thing about it?”

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