#potion anon

-everything that leads up to reader being caught-

“You’re trespassing.” His eyes turned to slits. “Think you can help him break out? Not in my prison.”

“I-“ You weighed the pros and cons of confessing. Maybe if you confessed, he’d let you go with a slap on the wrist. Some upgraded security perhaps. “Y-yes. I don’t think he deserves those conditions.”

The hand holding your shirt tightened, and you were slammed to the ground, forcing the air out of your lungs.

“He’s a MONSTER. He deserves everything that’s happened to him.” Smoke poured from under Sam’s mask. He put a heavy paw on your chest, causing something to crack a little. “And someone who supports such a monster can’t be changed.. there’s no point in even trying.”

You whimpered, shoving at his front legs.

Sam grabbed you by the collar and lifted you up, pinning you against the warm obsidian wall. “And I might as well.. get a free meal out of it.” Using the free hand, he reached up and undid his mask, giving you a nice view of his sharp fangs and slavering maw.

“S-Sam.. please don’t do this. Please.” You begged.

His upper lip curled away from his teeth. With a speed you didn’t even know he could reach, he lunged and snapped his jaws over your right arm, crunching the bone with minimal effort.

A scream tore itself out of your mouth, and tears flooded your vision. Through watery eyes you watched him lick your blood from his lips and teeth, apparently rumbling with satisfaction. Or maybe that was the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You couldn’t tell. With your functioning arm you weakly smacked at his hand.

Sam glared at you, eyes flashing dangerously. He leaned closer and opened his mouth wide. You peered at the red tinted saliva that hung from his teeth, sobbing quietly. He pushed your head into his mouth, letting his teeth scrape against your fragile skin.

You kicked out at him, but stopped when he gave you a rough nibble on your shoulders. His tongue swiped across your face a few times, drooling more at the taste of tears, before he threw his head back and let your upper body slide into his throat.

You were too scared to move. Your stillness was only broken by your injured arm being swallowed into his gullet, and you proceeded to scream and thrash.

Sam would’ve bitten you because of the thrashing, but you’d already vanished down his throat, so there was nothing to bite. So he growled quietly and did a big gulp to fully push you into his first stomach.

Upon entering his stomach, you landed on your broken arm, which caused a new round of tears and screaming.

“You’re one of those types.. ugh.. so loud and annoying.” Sam grumbled. “I was going to keep you there for a bit just to mess with you, but your crying is bothering me.”

Your surroundings shifted as he started to walk back to his office. The muscular walls of his stomach squeezed you forcefully, jostling your injury and making it hard to breathe.

“S-Sam.. please. I don’t want to die..” You whined.

“Maybe no one wants it, but some people deserve it.” He spat back. “I’d let Dream join you, but then he’d get a nice clean death. It’s not what he earned. Not after all his crimes.”

You quivered, hearing something below you groan. You’d always wondered how his anatomy worked as a taur. Now you were about to find out.

Sam pressed against his abdomen, massaging you down into the lower stomach, grumbling to himself about ways of torturing Dream. He seemed to not even care about you anymore. It was like you’d just turned into food. Which, technically, you were.

You kicked your legs, whimpering, but you weren’t able to stop yourself from being moved into his second stomach. It was bigger than the first, but more humid and active. More liquid had accumulated there, and when your skin touched it, it burned horribly. Sam’s voice was even more muffled now, between the layers of skin and muscle between you two, and the thundering clash of his internal organs.

——-

Fueled by a gut-turning mix of fear and anger Bakugou advanced on the field with merciless determination. He didn’t bother hesitating with any who got in his way, explosions constant and volatile enough to leave his wrists aching, and even his allies a little shaken.

“Oi!” With everyone out of his way and s/o’s form finally coming into view Bakugou dropped, vaguely feeling the harsh tug of gravel under his knees as he slid to his lover’s side, pulling them to his lap.

“Hey, this is no time to be laying around!” Looking at you made Bakugou’s panic skyrocket. His heart beat so quickly in his chest it felt as though it had stopped all together, blood running so cold it seemed that ice had begun pumping through his veins.

One hand was immediately at the bullet wound in s/o’s chest, pushing hard to staunch the already slowing blood flow. He knew that was a bad spot. Whoever it was who’d made this shot hadn’t missed.

“Come the hell on...” The way Bakugou checked for other injuries was methodical but rushed, the way his hand brushed grime and blood from his lover’s cheek instinctive. He would not, absolutely could not, accept this. There was no way that his s/o could get themselves killed by these damned extras.

Screaming a curse Bakugou held a little tighter to their body, tensed but unresponsive. There was no way. There was no god damn way... Emotions rushed him frome very angle, brain a mess of constantly firing charges as he held s/o’s body in his arms, having angled their wound up in hopes to help his hand keep them from bleeding.

“You’re not leaving me like this.” The blonde hardly registered the quake in his voice, fearful and angry as he demanded, begged, pleaded that this wasn’t really happening to him - to you. He couldn’t lose you; he wouldn’t lose you. He couldn’t live with himself, knowing he’d failed you like this...

But he knew. Bakugou knew, by the stiffness in your muscles every time he shifted, knew by the way your eyes glazed over, unresponsive, unblinking, that he already had.

Squeezing your arms tight enough to bruise Bakugou found his eyes stinging, underused tear-ducts straining with the sudden wash of liquid flooding them.

When he heard the first groan, Bakugou thought he was going crazy...

“...Hurts.” At attention suddenly, back straight as if his spine had been replaced with a stick, eyes swapped for saucers, Bakugou stared down at the figure in his arms. He knew he hadn’t imagined that.

“I-it...” S/o didn’t have to say it again. Their face, a blank slate, mocking what they once had been just seconds ago was now scrunched in discomfort. Their every movement seemed labored as they squirmed ever so slightly in Bakugou’s arms, wincing at the wave of pain sent screaming through their system as they did.

Bakugou had no idea what was going on. A second ago, s/o had been unnaturally stiff, yet limp, in his arms, completely unmoving - unbreathing, unblinking. They’d had no pulse. Yet here they were, whimpering in his arms, complaining about being in pain. He didn’t understand. But that didn’t matter - not right now. The hero knew that right now, getting them somewhere safe was all that mattered.

With the blessing of his team he hoisted s/o in his arms and took off running.

“You just didn’t say anything.” It had taken little more than a day for s/o to recover, fractured heart completely put back together by the powers of their secondary quirk, bullet wound closed over without so much as a scar to mark their near-death. Even the smallest of scrapes and bruises had all but dissolved into thin air, leaving them as healthy as you’d ever been.

S/o had completely recovered. But Bakugou had not.

“I didn’t think it would matter--”

“You didn’t think it would matter?!” S/o knew it was the wrong thing to say the second the words had passed their lips, wincing when Bakugou slammed a fist into their side-table.

He wanted to scream, yell loud enough to wake the entire hospital, throw that god damned end table out of the window. S/o had known all this time that they would be fine - that a wound like that wouldn’t be able to kill them - not permanently. But never once had they ever thought to tell him. They had just let him suffer, stood by and allowed his heart to break at the sight of them ‘dead’ on the ground.

Cursing again Bakugou let sparks pop from his fingers, loud enough to echo into the hall and strong enough to make his wrists throb, but still not powerful enough to destroy anything. There was so much, too much, for him to think about.

“That’s not-- that’s not what I meant. I just hoped...” S/o scratched at the back of their head, guilt making their chest feel altogether too tight. They’d never meant for this to happen; they’d never want to do this to the person they loved so much. Hurting Bakugou had been the very last thing they ever wanted to do.

“I hoped I would never have to use it.” Regenerating was not as clean-cut as it seemed. There was much to it, and as any powerful quirk, it came with some heavy downsides. Downsides that were never easy to talk about.

The arms that wrapped around s/o were sudden, catching them by surprise. Bakugou’s grip on them was a little too tight, almost suffocating. Still, his grip was warm, it was safe and comforting. S/o didn’t hesitate to wiggle herself in her lover’s grip, wrapping her arms around his back, pulling him as close as her tired muscles would allow.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

“Shut up.” It was a plea as much as it was anything else, muffled into the warmth of s/o’s neck where Bakugou had burred his head. He deserved an apology - more than that. They both knew he did. But now, perhaps, was not the time.

Complying, s/o simply squeezed Bakugou a little tighter, letting him seek out the silent reassurance that he needed, resting their chin on his shoulder. The room was silent, their bodies warm, atmosphere thick for what felt like quiet a long time before Bakugou managed to find his words.

“Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I won’t. I promise I wont. I love you.”