Tumgik
#don't judge me too harshly on the last two okay
zvdvdlvr · 1 year
Note
teacher remus noticing reader is upset and asks them what's wrong after which reader basically comes out as trans (ftm)?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
acceptance; remus lupin
synopsis: remus's student confides in him something that's been plaguing them.
warnings: PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP, father figure remus ong, trans (ftm) reader, f/n: friend name, f/n doesn't know y/n is trans
reader's pronouns: he/him
"y/n?"
y/n looked up. he had been stuck in That Feeling for the third day in a row now, and it was hurting him. he was forgetting to do basic tasks such as eat and make your bed. he was barely talking, and had no will to go to classes.
"yeah?" he croaked, suddenly aware of the class's eyes on him.
f/n eyed him. "are you okay?"
y/n nodded. "yeah, yeah i'm fine."
turning f/n nodded to professor lupin. "she's fine."
y/n visibly shrunk back at being referred to as "she". the fucking pronouns followed him everywhere, tormenting him and telling him he wasn't a "him", but a "her". it made him feel a way that he couldn't describe.
at least the lesson continued, and all eyes moved back to lupin.
y/n spent the rest of the class in an uncontrollable daze. his head was spinning, but not quite enough to want to get up and leave. though not soon enough, class was dismissed.
the milling of students past him finally grounded y/n back, but his name being called alarmed him.
"y/n? will you stay for a little bit?" professor lupin asked, scarred face patiently awaiting the answer he knows he'll get.
y/n swallowed. "yeah."
once the last pupil was out of the room, remus turned to his desk and waved his hand. within moments, two steaming mugs appeared side by side.
"cocoa?" the professor asked with a smile. "i know it isn't really the season for that, but i think you'd like this better than the tea i've been drinking lately," remus explains. y/n slowly stands up, and takes the cup from the professor's hands.
"oh don't worry. there's no truth serum in this, i solemnly swear." remus stated before taking a sip.
"so, dear child, what's been on your mind as of late?" remus finally asked.
y/n looked down, back slouched violently. "i- it's truly nothing. just stress, i guess."
it was a pity y/n was a bad liar when upset. "i won't judge. i simply want to know what the change in attitude is about," remus explained, eyes trained on the teen in front of him. "if this is a family thing... well, i had a friend who... if it's a family thing just say so and i'll leave you alone of you so please."
y/n felt horrible. he felt like the professor genuinely cared. and all the emotion in his voice was stabbing y/n in the heart. "i'm trans- transgender," y/n whispered, eyes to the floor.
he barely registered the mug being taken from his hand, or remus leading him gently to the floor, but he didn't realize he was openly bawling into his professor's arms. "i'm trans, professor," he sobbed, gasping on air.
remus soothingly shushed his cries, and patted his back in a fatherly way. it pained remus to see one of his favorite students so upset.
five minutes flew by. y/n sniffed miserably as he harshly wiped tears from his eyes. "are-are you gonna t-tell dumbledore?"
"would you like me to?" remus asked.
y/n shook his head.
"what do you go by?" remus asked quietly.
"still y/n but i'm thinking of going by something else. my, uh, pronouns, though, are he/him," y/n explained, fingers knotting together. he hadn't told anyone that he was trans. this was huge.
remus smiled. "would you like me to use your pronouns in front of the class?"
y/n nodded. he hadn't thought of that question, but maybe hearing his pronouns from his favorite professor would help validate him.
remus grabbed the desk to help him up. grabbing the teen's hand, remus pulled y/n up. "i may have... something that could help make your voice lower..."
y/n looked up, wide-eyed. "really?"
the professor smiled at y/n's glee. "yes. it's a potion that i can give you the recipe too, but i don't have the ingredients," remus explained, summoning some potion book.
flipping through pages, remus finally found the page. grabbing a piece of paper, remus enchanted a quill to copy down ingredients, the process of making the potion, and when and how to drink.
y/n gingerly accepted the paper. "i- i really don't know what to say, professor...'' he trailed off.
"just a simple assurance that you'll be smiling tomorrow is all i need," remus chuckled, nudging y/n gently in the arm.
y/n felt wholly accepted by professor lupin, and the feeling made him want to cry again.
but all y/n could do was smile in gratitude and hope lupin knew how much this meant to him.
544 notes · View notes
captain-mj · 1 year
Note
memory loss fic part 3?
👉🏽👈🏽
whenever you’re ready of course…..the chokehold it has on me is WILD lmao 😅
I did ALL of this on mobile so forgive any problems lol
Last Part!
Soap spent every moment he could by Ghost’s bedside. Ghost tried to stay awake, flinching when the morphine forced him under.
He looked so normal while asleep. Soap expected him to twitch but he never did, completely still besides the gentle up and down of his breathing. Then he’d wake up, pleading with Soap.
“Make it stop. I don’t want to go back anymore. Please don’t make me go back.” Simon mumbled to him, holding on to him like a lifeline. “Why can’t I just stay asleep with you?”
Soap sighed. “Simon, they’re not real. Roba is dead. You’re reliving memories.”
“I hate it. I hate it so much. I don’t want to wake up again.”
Soap felt sick. He knew Ghost didn’t understand. It was probably impossible to tell what was real and what wasn’t, so he assumed Soap wasn’t.
“I know. I know.” No ones knew if or when this would end. They weren’t sure if he was “gaining the memories in a linear timeline” or “just having Night terrors”. That’s what the nurses said. It didn’t make any sense to him. Their explanations were pointless. None of it really helped the situation.
Ghost changed. The person he had met the first day of his injury faded. Although he still trusted Soap, he didn’t let him touch him anymore. It was subtle, but he started to cover himself up, trying to prevent any of them observing him.
Soap left for just a moment and found him quietly painting a skull on his face in the bathroom, using a marker that had been left behind. When asked, he didn’t have an explanation on why.
Soap hated it. He tried to get Ghost to remember at first. Showed him anything he could think of. Their dogtags, sketches He made of the two of them, but they were all met with a blank stare and frustration.
Right now though, it was quiet. Simon had grabbed his hand.
“They left me there.”
“Who?”
“Washington and Sparks. They left me there…” Ghost stared at the tv. “I told them to. I wish I hadn’t. I don’t want to wake up.”
Soap rubbed little circles into his hands. “I’m sorry.”
“I miss my mom. Do you think she’s doing okay?”
“I’m sure she’s fine.” Soap’s voice cracked. His big, bad Lt looked very small. “You’re a good man for telling them to leave.” He knew it hadn’t mattered. Both were dead. Ghost didn’t yet.
“If this is real, why are you always here when i wake up?”
“I don’t want you to wake up alone.”
“I barely know who you are. Why would you care?”
Soap stared at him.
“Please don’t bring up the memory thing again.”
“It’s the memory thing again.”
“Why? What did i do to deserve you?” Ghost looked at him and it took Soap to realize what he was asking.
“You saved my life. You let me in. You didn’t judge me too harshly.” He leaned in, very slow so Simon could pull away. He kissed him softly and maybe some cheesy part of him hoped he’d pull away and Ghost would be fixed.
“Johnny. I really hope you’re real.” Ghost mumbled against him. He grabbed his shirt, trying to pull him closer but Soap stopped him.
“You have a still healing bullet wound. I’ll hurt you.” Soap said softly to him, cupping his face. Pretty eyelashes. Giant brown eyes. Just as gorgeous as always. “Do you want me to get you a surgical mask?”
“Yes.” Ghost nodded and Soap got him one, watching him cover that part of his face. Soap watched him eventually go to sleep.
Johnny tried to stay up but it was pointless. He fell asleep.
When he woke up, he heard movement but he assumed it was Price or one of the nurses, eyes staying closed. He felt gloved hands on his face a minute later and groaned.
“Johnny.”
Ghost.
Soap knew as soon as he heard him. He threw himself at him, making him stumble.
“Healing bullet wound, remember?” Ghost didn’t seem all that upset though.
"There you are. Fuck." He kissed his face all over, gripping his shoulders tight. "Don't ever fucking do that again."
"I'll try not to get another head injury. Where's my mask?"
Soap pulled away just long enough to find it and give it to him. He patted over him, as if checking for injuries again. "How did you get out of the cuffs?"
"Picked the lock."
"You're a scary bastard sometimes." Soap kissed Ghost until he was physically shoved away to let the man breath.
Ghost huffed and relaxed. "That was hell... Thanks for sticking with me."
"Aye... You said you didn't like my voice."
"Because I don't"
"Ouch." Soap held his hand over his heart.
"Okay, I like it a little."
"There you go, big guy."
205 notes · View notes
Note
hello , i don't really know how to start this question or if i should even send this to your blog . . . but i decided i should send because i need to spell it out . since last year i am thinking that maybe i am in a system but that feeling is getting to out of control and i don't really know what i should do . i had been in multiple traumatic experiences since childhood and always changed my personality in the experiences that i am within. i'm always questioning if this me IS really the me who i was yesterday like "is this me? is this really me??" . i feel like i should try to research and try to self diagnose myself because my family won't allow me to go to the psychiatrist again and our financial amount can't pay because is to expensive nowadays . do you guys know any reliable resource to research about multiple and maybe about depersonalization too ? ( i've been also experiencing somewhat of a depersonalization recently ) i'm so scared of sending this because I can't stop feeling that someone will judge me of " wanting to take advantage of a disorder to make bad things " which isn't what I want :(
Hiya! We’re so sorry that you’re having to go through this difficult questioning process on your own without any help from a mental health professional! It sounds really tough, and our heart goes out to you! Rest assured you should never feel bad for asking a question here… we’re always happy to help however we can!! >w<
We do have a post with lots of resources for questioning systems! So if you’re looking to start learning about plurality and dissociative disorders, this is a great place to start:
That post ^ contains nearly every resource we’ve found so far on dissociative disorders, and we continue to update it as we find more! So it’s a really good jumping off point for complex dissociative disorder research :3
Now as far as depersonalization specifically… here’s some links to sites where you can learn more about that symptom in particular! Remember depersonalization is a symptom, usually of something broader like DID, OSDD, DPDR, or PTSD/CPTSD. And many of the resources in our info post actually discuss depersonalization as it relates to dissociative disorders!!
(^ you don’t have to buy the manual in order to access the information on this site!)
(^ our own infographic on depersonalization vs. derealization! :3)
And here’s a bit of unsolicited reassurance, if that’s okay!
There is nothing wrong with learning about other disorders and questioning if you have a particular mental illness!! Especially if you don’t have access to healthcare, questioning and self-diagnosing may be your only options for actually figuring out what’s going on in your mind. Please don’t treat yourself harshly for questioning whether or not you’re suffering from a certain mental illness. Us mentally ill folks are suffering enough as it is - no need to rub salt in the wound by treating yourself unkindly for questioning if you have a dissociative disorder or something similar!! >w<
Anon, we’re sending hope and strength your way! Good luck with figuring this out! We know it’s not easy at all, but we believe in you! :33
💚 Ralsei and 💫 Parker
14 notes · View notes
ukr-anka-09 · 1 month
Text
Hello! I'm new here. I will write about MK, reactions, headcanons, etc. Please don't judge harshly! I am Ukrainian and I translate half of the text myself, half with a translator.
Let's start. It was winter, the cold season. There is snow and it is quite slippery. There are holidays coming up in China, but they are strangers to our Y/N. The girl came to China to learn more about her distant relatives who used to trade in China, as well as to learn various facts. The girl also decided to enroll in a small town. Where she is now. Well, for now Y/N has nothing to worry about. The girl rented some kind of house, although one can argue that it was not a house, it looked more like a temple.
But Y/N quickly settled in, and now it’s a cozy place. The girl lived at the end of a small town. Almost near the forest and lake. It’s not very safe to live there, especially for a girl, but Y/N wasn’t worried about that. The girl herself knew medicine. Medicine for people and animals also did not interfere with her making various ointments, decoctions, and teas. She is also good with chemistry, she could make some kind of poison. For example, from insects that love to eat her flowers. Now the girl is currently sitting by the window reading a book and drinking tea, covered with a blanket. Nothing was foreshadowed until someone knocked. Y/N became alert, took the dagger in her left hand and began to open the door. Y/N always prepares there since she doesn’t communicate much with the locals. When suddenly she saw two men holding a third. One had black hair, another had gray hair, and the third also had black hair, but he seemed to be passed out. You decided to start a dialogue.
- Hello, what do you need?Then a man with black hair in yellow answered
- Does a healer live here? We need help, please help .You didn’t really trust them and wanted to close the door. After all, you didn’t want to get involved with different clans. But you let me in and decided to help
- Okay, come quickly. Lay him down on the sofa. I'm behind a blanket and a pillow.You came with a pillow and a blanket. You put a pillow under the head of the man in blue and covered him with a blanket. And you decided to start a conversation.
- Well, tell me what happened. Just like your name and his. But I also demand to tell you how he has been feeling lately, as well as permission to examine him.
- I'm Tomas.This is Kuai Liang, and the one lying there is our brother Bi Han. We were on a mission and he became ill. It takes a day or two to get to our clan. We decided to stop somewhere here. Also, back in the clan, we heard about the miraculous healer. And they told us that it was you
- Ok Tomas, tell me how Bi Han has been feeling lately
- Well, he often grabbed the spine and pelvis. He also weakened, it was obvious. Although he didn’t show it, his muscles probably hurt. You could just often notice how he kneads them or grabs them. He also couldn’t walk, he had a headache, he had difficulty admitting it. He never liked to talk when he felt bad. He was also more irritable than usual. This was last week. And for the last two days he slept poorly and didn’t really eat anything. And it was either too warm or too cold. He is a cryomancer, it was normal for him, but he became even colder, and then even warmer. And then he fell, we couldn’t bring him back to consciousness. Well, we were not far from your house, and here we are. Next thing you know.Y/N walked up to the table. She took the book and started leafing through it. And then she whispered something, then, putting down the book, she walked up to Bi Han. She began to feel my pulse and forehead. He was hot, his pulse was more or less normal. Then Y/N took a notebook from the shelf and began to draw and write something, then tore it out and gave it to Kuai Liang
-Myofascial syndrom and colds Y/N said in a quiet tone. And Kuai Liang looked questioningly while Tomas was quietly silen
-What?
-He just overworked himself and that’s why he got sick. Got a cold
- When can we continue on our way?
-Well what can I say. He may be unconscious for 3 days maximum, but he definitely needs to rest for a week. Otherwise the same thing will happen again.
- Is it possible to stay with you for a while?
-Well, I don’t have enough places, maybe there won’t be enough
-Can we leave Bi Han until he gets better? We can leave, we need to let you know that everything is fine with us
-OK then. We agreed, I hope he doesn’t kill me and you have time to pick him upY/N laughed, and Tomas smiled at the same time. And Kuai Liang just grinned.
- Well, see you later. They said and left. Leaving his brother for a fragile girl
5 notes · View notes
stereopticons · 1 year
Text
Fic Origin Story
tagged by @rmd-writes and @mostlyinthemorning
What was your first fandom (reading and/or writing)?
The Rent fandom was my very first exposure to fic, both reading and writing. I was thirteen? Idk. A teenager, definitely. I think some of my Mark/Roger fics are still on ff.net, unfortunately. Including a preschool au because there's something wrong with me.
What was the first story you ever wrote (even if it was never posted) and what made you decide to write it?
First story ever? God, I have no idea. My primary hobby as a child was making up stories. If any of my fellow old millennials remember Storybook Weaver, that was my favorite computer "game". I used to read my stories during show and tell (and several members of the class would fight over the bathroom pass so they wouldn't have to stay and listen). I do remember writing a story about dogs who go into space and fight aliens. I also wrote a story about a second Titanic that was also supposed to be unsinkable that also sank. It was...special.
My first fic was a Mark/Roger multi-chapter fic that's apparently 11k words and the only description I felt necessary to put in was "very angsty, slightly morbid" (thanks to ff.net's lack of a tagging system) and I will not be re-reading it to try to remember what it's actually about. I apparently started posting it more than 20 years ago so I have literally no idea what made me decide to write it.
My first SC fic was Persistence of Memory which I wrote in October 2021. I was writing my dissertation and struggling with some mental health stuff, and I had a dream about David and decided I needed to poke and prod at his anxiety for a bit.
What’s a piece of advice you would give to your younger fic-writing self?
It doesn't have to all be angst. It's FINE to let your characters be happy. Please get some therapy. Also, you're queer.
What’s an early fandom interaction that stuck with you (be it a nice comment, a friend you made, a fic that got a lot of feedback etc.)?
I am still friends with people I met through fandom 20 years ago and I think that's so cool. I felt very alone a lot when I was a teenager, and it was nice to have these online friends with shared interests. They weren't quite pocket friends because I didn't have a cell phone, much less a smartphone, but it was the same idea, and it meant so much to me.
Post a sentence or two from one of your older fics, and a sentence or two from a newer one (if you want).
Oh boy. Okay. So I'll post a few sentences of my first Rent fic but please remember I was a literal child when I wrote this so please don't judge me too harshly (and no, I won't link it).
Mark stared blankly at the ceiling, slowly running the events of the day through his head. Only slowly, because, really, not much had happened. It had been an annoyingly normal day. He wished something would happen, just something.
And a few lines I wrote last night:
The word ‘queer’ makes a series of complicated emotions that David is not nearly sober enough to interpret march across Patrick’s face, and he tenses briefly, a deeply ingrained fear in him flaring up. But then Patrick goes and says, “Wow, that’s…that sounds incredible, David,” with a kind of reverence and awe that adds several more questions to David’s mental list of things he wants to know about this man. 
“We’re having an opening next week, if you’re interested.” The words leave David’s mouth before he can even try to stop them.
tagging @hippolotamus @alienajackson @rosedavid @jettestar @gayhoediaz @roseapothecary @plainest @treluna4 @apothecarose and anyone else who wants to play.
14 notes · View notes
shiny-jr · 2 years
Note
hi ^^ maybe orchid, sage, and palm tree for the get-to-know-me ask game? xoxo
orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?
-> Oh god, okay hear me out, it's not really an official song but it's like a remix. I just mentioned in the last ask how I look forward to seeing a character called Namor, who's supposed to be the antagonist in the next Marvel movie Black Panther 2. I've ranted about it before too. So the first look they dropped for it was during Comic Con like two weeks ago. And in the mini trailer was a remix combining the song "No Woman, No Cry" by Bob Marley covered by Tems and "Alright" by Kendrick Lamar. It was never a remix I expected to hear, but it works so well together? I feel that it's really fitting considering there will likely be more powerful female protagonists and it captures the loss of the character T'Challa, which is probably where the movie will start off. It hits harder when you remember that the actor who played T'Challa, Chadwick Boseman, passed away two years ago and it really impacted many people. It feels like the beginning of the song is not only talking about T'Challa but about Chadwick too. So I feel like when both songs say the lyrics "Everything's gonna be alright"/"We gonna be alright," it's assuring the audience that everything will be alright despite the loss, in a way it may be like a means of comforting from the producers and cast to the fans.
sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?
-> Well, fiction. I try to admire paintings and art but I judge harshly and tend to skim over them. I don't like poetry because it's usually short, usually about things that don't interest me in the slightest, and I was always assigned to analyze them in high school and I loathed doing that. I do like to listen to music, but again, I'm picky with music too and I tend to like the weird songs. Statues are cool actually, especially the really detailed marble ones, but it's nothing actually "touching." I think fiction stands out more to me, probably because I'm more used to it and if you're skilled enough, you can actually portray emotions and perhaps even make readers feel something. But again, you have to be skilled to do so. Something I am not. But I've seen other writers on this platform who do have the ability to make me feel something for what they write.
palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?
-> Already answered!
5 notes · View notes
doctormomwriter · 2 years
Text
Smokin' pt 2
I somehow managed to bypass question 20. Colt thanked me for me time on the show and spent the rest of the air time to interview Joe about his new contract with AEW and his feelings about leaving the WWE.
I went to the hotel to change and grab some dinner. I had the rest of the evening off to do whatever I wanted as we did not start filming anything for dynamite until tomorrow. I showered and redressed in some ripped skinny jeans, a t-shirt, and my Doc Martins. I was starving and I looked everywhere for my purse before realizing I left it in Colt's studio room. I ran back down to the studio and the guys were still in there talking. I noticed my bag sitting under Joe's stool and I got lucky in that they were wrapping up the podcast. I waiting behind the door until I saw them starting to stand up. I walked back in and Colt started laughing again.
"Shut up, I just forgot my bag!" I laughed, still a little tipsy.
"Sure you forgot.." He put a lot of emphasis on forgot.
About that time Joe grabbed Colt in a headlock, it was loose and not locked in because he was just playing around. Joe kept asking him what was so funny. Finally Colt broke free and laughed so hard he was leaning on Joe's shoulder for balance.
"I cant! hahaha, I can't." Colt started to run out of dangers way. "Just listen to the podcast later!" When he said that I froze.
"Don't do it!" I shrieked out. Covering my mouth right after.
"Was it bad? Was it about me??" Joe was laughing but looked nervous.
"It was not bad, I promise. It was embarassing for me." I started to feel calm. Joe had the most laid back vibe about him and I realized that coming clean about a crush in your late 20's is not as scary as it was when I was 15.
"Oh....okay then." I watch Joe put a headphone in and he showed me that he pulled up the podcast stream. He smirked and went running out.
I chased him. Laughing and begging for him not to. He ran all the way to the hotel gym before I caught him.
"Joe, please no, it is so embarassing!"
"You mean the world can listen, but I can't??" He had the most devious smile.
"Okay fine. But, if you think I am gross after, try not to judge me harshly." I admitted defeat.
Joe pulled the headphone out. Still giving the half smirk that made me hypertensive in my youth. He had the best swagger to him. Always confident.
"Alright, well, I'll see you at dinner tonight, you are going to the steak house with Colt and Silver and them right?" He asked.
"Oh yeah, I'll be there. I am starving now though." I put my hand on my stomach.
"Yeah, me too. Want to go get a sandwich across the street?" When he asked my heart almost stopped beating and I wanted to throw up in a good way.
"Oh yeah, please. Let me grab my purse really quick. I forgot it AGAIN." I face palmed, mostly to hide my blush.
After our quick lunch I wanted to get something to wear to dinner tonight. I thanked Joe for joining me and he paid for my lunch. I begged him not to, but he insisted. In my head I told myself it was a date, but it was not. He was a very pleasant guy, great sense of humor. He did not spend a lot of time on his phone which was really cool to me since the last two dates I had been on, the guys would not stay off of social media. But again, this was not a date. We went our separate ways when I walked into the mini mall strip down the street. He said he would see me soon and winked.
I ran into Anna while I was shopping for a cute oufit. She helped me pick out a emerald green crushed velvet cocktail dress that clung to my body in all the good spots. I was so excited that it wasnt too short for my liking either. I did the squat test and my ass didnt fall out so it was meant to be. Then she said it... right as we were checking out in line.
"So...you and Joe, huh?" She smiled.
more to come...
5 notes · View notes
aris-ink · 8 months
Note
i don’t think it’s the communicating, but the comprehension. i feel like he doesn’t understand where I’m coming from. i talked to him last night and cried to him bc it’s been bringing me down for some time now but he just keeps saying we’re okay :( he tells me a lot that he’s still here and that he still cares, but he’s not emotionally here nor does his actions show that he still cares. i told him that, but lowk he kinda dismissed it and said that he feels like he’s there physically and emotionally. maybe i’m asking for too much? i don’t get how none of this is affecting him when it’s affecting me so much. i can’t help but think that he knows i won’t leave or he has another person to go to and talk when i’m stressing him out. 🫠 i’m trying to give it time, but how long can i wait until i can’t do it anymore? sigh.
- 🌳
it's really hard to judge situations like this fairly, because I don't know him at all, and I don't want to accidentally end up putting any more bad thoughts in your head baby, especially when they might not even be true 😩 so I really am trying not to judge him too harshly. and I could even say, you know, maybe that's just how he is? maybe he's just not someone who is very emotional, not openly, at least. there are two buts here, though. because first of all, if that's just how he is, it means you will struggle to fit well together, it clearly already feels like your needs aren't being met and you're having a hard time. 😔
and again I could say, you can work on it, and it's okay. but. yeah, here comes the second but, and it's what bothers me the most about your message. even if it is just his personality, and nothing bad is going on... if he cares for you, it should affect him that you're upset. it should worry him that you're anxious and crying. because saying "everything is OK" and dismissing your thoughts and emotions is not the way. clearly for you it isn't okay. so, even if he doesn't understand it, he should be all over you, putting in extra effort and giving you reassurance to help you feel better. that's what a good partner does. that definitely does bother me, it's not okay. so, maybe that should be the main point of your conversation? why he just seems so okay while you're struggling and worrying? because that sounds like the biggest issue to me. you're NOT asking for too much. you're asking for what you deserve, and don't ever ask for less. 😔❤️
I wish I could give you a hug or do more for you baby, I'm so sorry ☹️ but I promise I will do what I can and at least be here. I love you ❤️
1 note · View note
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
my favorite the best wlw kara danvers ships
“She's gorgeous, she's smart... smells nice. Hell, I want to date her.“ - Kara about Lucy, 1x05
“She was very kind, and generous, and, you know, she's smart, and beautiful and even though she looks like a Greek goddess, I can't find any reason to hate her.“ - Kara about Imra, 3x09
+ bonus
(flirty sarcastic villain x righteous superhero)
“Honey, you haven't been reading my psych evals correctly.“ - Livewire to Kara, 3x11
“Kara, honey. I know you believe the best in people.” - Nyxly to Kara, 6x04
i mean, who doesn’t like a fun dynamic like this?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
265 notes · View notes
rhinestone eyes
PAIRING: Rich Boy!Eren x Fem!Reader
WARNINGS [present+future]: infidelity, dubcon, gaslighting, manipulative and toxic behavior, toxic relationship, sexual content, yandere tendencies, suggestive hand-holding
part one
kofi
Tumblr media
There's a sneer on Eren's face as green eyes behind Versace aviators glide over your form, staring you up and down. His gaze is so penetrative, it makes your teeth chatter. Maybe he was just checking you out. Maybe he was scrutinizing every blemish.
You suddenly feel so very small in your tennis skirt, the tight collared shirt stretching over your breasts, and wished that today out of all days wasn't when you decided to dress a little more stylish.
"Fancy seeing you here." His voice is nonchalant but there's a tone of humor that accompanies his brisk words. How long would it be until he laughs at you?
He scowls, "Are you mute or something? Why aren't you greeting me back properly?"
"Eren," You took a deep breath, "What are you doing in Paris?"
It occurs to you that you've never seen him out of his uniform before. He's wearing a light blue button-down, half the buttons left unfastened, polo shorts, an expensive black watch glittering on his wrist, silver rings on his slender fingers, and a thin silver chain dangling around his neck.
He's also acquired a new piercing, industrial, judging by the bar across his ear. The silver glints harshly under the sun.
"Are you done burning holes through me?"
You blush, embarrassment coloring your cheeks: "No, I'm just surprised." You tucked a loose lock of hair behind your ear, "Didn't expect to run into anyone I knew in another country."
You were just taking a pleasant walk in the acclaimed Champs-Élysées, the avenue every bit as a picture-perfect postcard as it had been described.
"Have you eaten?" The question is spoken with a sigh like he couldn't believe he was asking you this, and you couldn't either.
"Oh, um, no?" You responded, bewildered.
He runs a hand through his dark hair, which reached the nape of his neck by now: "I know a cafe around here. Let's get brunch. We'll talk there."
You don't know what possessed you to nod but you did so, trying to match his quick and long strides. The walk was silent, presumably because the two of you were saving your burning questions for the cafe.
He rolls his eyes when you stutter through your French. He raises a hand, and simply tells the waiter his order and dismisses him. His French is flawless and you're tempted to ask him how it's so good, but you already know the answer. Probably had hordes of tutors to help him.
Merci Monsieur
"Wait," You remark to Eren, "I didn't order."
"I ordered for us. Pain au chocolate, savory crepes, eggs, and ham. Coffee after. For me. Hot chocolate for you because you don't drink coffee."
Oh. That actually sounds good. How did he know your beverage preferences?
He fishes out a cigarette from his pocket, skinny and hand-rolled, "So what are you doing here? No offense but you don't exactly seem like you can afford a vacation to France. "
Now is your turn to sigh. You've nearly forgotten how blunt he could be: "Here on an internship. For art" You supply.
"I assume you just regularly come to Paris every summer?"
He doesn't deny or verify your statement, "Something like that."
"So you're staying at a hostel or?" He asks, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that makes your nose wrinkle.
The waiter comes by with food, and you turn to Eren with a sour look, "I sincerely hope you're not going to smoke while we're eating."
To your utter surprise, he ashes the cigarette. You were expecting a witty and mean retort at the very minimum, not silent compliance.
You pick up the earlier conversation, "Well, I'm actually staying with my boyfriend." You mummer the last word quietly but the viridian-eyed boy's ears are keen. You don't notice how his grip on the knife tightens.
"You're staying with your boyfriend?" He repeats.
You nod, "Yeah, he's an art student too."
The rest of the meal is completed in sparing small-talk and lengths of silence. But it's not awkward. It's weird. On one hand, having brunch with Eren Yeager in fucking Paris, heir to a billionaire pharmaceutical company should feel surreal, but it's strangely peaceful. You feel more at peace sitting across from him in France than you did when he sat next to you in homeroom.
When it's time to pay the check, Eren looks amused by the very notion of you digging into your purse.
"What kind of gentleman would I be if I let the lady pay?" His words are spoken with a teasing smile.
You roll your eyes but can't help a glimmer of a smile from peeking through on your lips, "Didn't take you much for a gentleman."
He tosses his black card on the bill, "You'd be surprised."
What's there left to do now? Is it time to part ways? There's a part of you that craves more but life has taught you to not be greedy when you already have so so much.
You dabble the corner of your lips with a napkin, "Well, this has been fun-"
"Wait, uh, do you wanna check out the Louvre? Since you're an art student and all, you might uh enjoy it."
You stare at him. Is he tongue-tied?
"You've probably there been a million times already."
"Yeah...but you haven't been, right?"
You blink before breaking into a smile that Eren is sure is going to give him heart palpations, so sunny and bright.
"I would love to!"
You guys check out Mona Lisa for the sheer novelty, and you're bouncing around the museum, oohing and ahhing at the chiseled statues and Renaissance paintings. There is so much history here, it blows your mind.
Eren finds himself watching you more than the paintings. You have this veneer of snark that you wrap around yourself like a protective gauze (maybe that's how you maintain your survival in a world of hyenas) but you're different now.
You're yourself. Watching you here come alive in unbridled enthusiasm, eyes widened in passion, makes him reach out to his pocket and fish for his disposable film camera. He doesn't know if he's ever seen anyone in his vapid life look like the way you do, so filled with a zest for things that are greater than themselves.
He wants to burn you into his memory, praying to all the gods that you won't notice when he takes a picture of you admiring a bust of a goddess. He slyly tucks his camera back into his pocket.
The world seems to stand still when you tug his hand to show him a painting, an expression of unadulterated wonder on your face. But when you realize you pulled his hand, you immediately drop it like hot coals.
Why do you look so worried? Why do you look so scared?
"You can hold my hand if you want. It's-it's okay." He can't believe he's gotten the words out.
You're taking too long, your hands still hanging limply by your side, an indiscernible expression on your pretty face. Eren doesn't understand why it makes him so mad, why your sudden hesitation grated his nerves. Deciding to make your choice for you, he grabs your hand, squeezing your palm as he flashes you the charismatic smile that's got him out of countless incidents.
He doesn't like the expression of worry marring your features. Where did the happy jovial girl go? Just a few seconds, you were poking him with sparkles in your eyes, "Look at this Eren!" and "So beautiful, right?"
He forces another smile: "Show me the painting you wanted me to see." Maybe it was meant to be a request but it comes out as a demand.
You cast a glance at your joined hands, his grip borderline painful. "O-okay."
You lead him across the floor, and Eren can feel the stares of people around him. They are smiling. An older woman utters a "Un si charmant couple."
You take him to a grand painting. It's haunting and dark, swirling with so many shades of dusty red from vermillion to scarlet. A pregnant woman lies reclined, arm hanging and head lolling. She appears to be asleep, and there is a cacophony of men around her portrayed in varying degrees of stress.
"Death of a virgin", you breathed.
Such a macabre name, Eren thought as he gazed longer into the painting. He loosens his grip on your hand, testing whether you would pull away.
You don't.
It's raining outside and you're giggling.
"Fuck" Eren swears, "I'll call a cab."
You're a vision drenched in rain. Your clothes are soaked, and he could see the outline of your bra from your thin shirt. But it seems like you don't even care.
"Let's just enjoy it!" You cry out. There are thick droplets stuck in between your eyelashes, and you smell like rain too. It's dangerous, he can see chords of purple lightning flash the sky, thunder booming, and it's like you're dancing, the way you move so effortlessly.
You hook his hands in yours, "Doesn't this feel good?"
He feels like all his sins are being washed away, all the impurities and muck that clung onto him after nineteen years of existence. His heart nearly jumps out of his throat every time he looks at you.
He cups your chin and kisses you. When he feels the threadbare resistance, he kisses harsher, tongue and teeth swallowing your protests, coaxing your mouth open with a skillful pinch to your nipple. He pulls away just before you feel like all your breath has been robbed.
You're stunned speechless, "Eren...I...h-have a boyf-"
He kisses you again. And this time you kiss back, holding nothing back.
taglist: @candy-hime @cinnamon-n-roses @forwardpair
inspo: @candy-hime's rich boy!shoto. the iconic golf club one <3
791 notes · View notes
hotdamnhunnam · 3 years
Text
I Wanna Be Your Slave
A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which you and Jax are locked in a cellar and he ties you to a whipping post and whips your ass lol. Master/slave roleplay but in this fic (unlike some of my other Kinkfest fics...) Jax is actually a good guy not an absolute asshole. Title is inspired by the Måneskin song at the below link! **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**
Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, light choking, degradation, dom!Jax, bondage, master/slave kink, spanking, whipping Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)
Word Count: ~3.8k
Tumblr media
Note: As explained in this post, this ‘Dirty Little Secret’ series consists of fics that I had originally written for another character/celebrity, which I’m repurposing for characters of Charlie! So if the characterization ever seems a little off please don’t judge me too harshly 🙂 ALSO note that this fic is just straight up shitty – I wrote most of it years ago without giving a fuck and am not bothering with improving the quality, I sort of used to rhyme back then but not consistently so it’s a shitshow really, I’m just shoving Jax into the setup for this fic with zero context literally, and I realize that the kinks in this fic are totally not mainstream and super filthy, so for once it’s really refreshing that I’m not gonna be sitting around hoping that people will shower my writing with praises or that this fic will explode in popularity 🙃
**Please note warnings above**
Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…
***************
You're trapped in a cellar. 
With Jax Fucking Teller.
There's a whole fucking story behind how the two of you got here—some shit involving stolen guns, some rival gang that hates the Sons, your father being all politically significant and powerful enough that you're now being held as ransom—and honestly you should be crippled with fear. But this tall blonde bastard is so fucking handsome. You've been crushing on him for years. And nothing else matters right now when you're so fucking horny for him that you're damn near to tears.
He looks and smells goddamn divine. You know that's not the kind of thought that should be running through your mind. Not here, stricken with fear for your safety. It's crazy. But losing yourself in desire for Jax just feels... fucking unreal. So damn good. Better than it should. It's comforting, or something. Dangerously comforting. In his presence, you don't even care if it doesn't make sense.
Ever since you got stuck in this mess, you've been clinging to him in the darkness. Clutching his flannel-clad arms in a tight grasp which quickly turns into a desperate caress. Through the cloth you can feel the incredible bulge of his biceps and God it's just...
"It's okay, darlin'," he says. Shifts to give you the comfort you crave as you bury your face in his broad sculpted chest. Presence warming and calming. Even after what's happened this morning, you somehow feel safe in the arms of the crown prince of Charming. It's totally fucked to be honest. "Hey, I'll get us out of this. Promise."
The silent answer in your head is beyond shameless. But here with your cheek pressed against his firm pecs... shuddering in bliss as you breathe in his mouthwatering manly essence... flooding between your legs, 'cause he is pure fucking sex... you could honestly just live and die in this man's godlike presence. You bite your tongue to fight the shit you really want to say, keeping it back. Please don't, Jax... don't get us out of this—I want to stay...
Neither of you has any clue yet that you're bound to serve Jax Teller in this cellar as his filthy little slave today.
With one hand still gripping his strong upper arm you reach up with the other, wrapping it over his leather-bound shoulder, clasping at the back of his neck and clinging to his strong sturdy body like ivy to brick. You can feel a faint layer of sweat on his neck that you're instantly dying to lick.
Your senses are reeling. Here, with him as you give voice to a wild irrational fear, you can't deny that dread isn't the only thing you're feeling. You'll take life-threatening danger if it comes with the reward of you and Jax fucking. "... are they gonna sell us as sex slaves or something?"
The hottest sound you've ever heard bursts softly from his throat. It's low and quiet, caught between a breathy laugh and breathless groan. You bite down on your lip then to stifle your own slutty moan. His bright blue eyes meet yours and you can feel the heat burning beneath, and from the way his tongue traces along the edges of his teeth, you can tell the answer to your question is no.
That's not the answer you want, though. It's precious that Jax doesn't already know. Some part of him probably does but hell if it won't take a little more for him to let it show.
You're gonna give him more than just a little more.
With a bat of your lashes, your flirtiest dirtiest smile flashes; you drop to your knees before him like a whore.
"Oh f—" he mutter, too shocked to even utter the full curse, sapphire eyes wide in wonder, "what are..."
"Practice," you purr as you lick your lips, eager hands framing his hips. "If I'm gonna be a sex slave then I think I should practice performing... service..."
Jax sucks in a sharp hiss as you bury your face in the crotch of his jeans, massaging his dick through the denim with your doting mouth till he's harder than he's ever been.
"Practice makes... perfect, doesn't it?" you say as you savor the smell and the feel of his meat. Good enough to eat. "Though you already are, Jax. Every inch of you is perfect. That's a hard fucking fact."
Jax throws his head back, huge cock throbbing with a luscious twitch. "Son of a bitch..."
"Mmm, make me your bitch, Jax. Please. I wanna be your slave. Serve you in every way. It's what the slut inside me needs... and craves..." you shamelessly confess as your hands set to work on his fly to unleash the glory of Jax Teller. "Nothing else even matters today. We're here now all alone together, in this shady little cellar..."
When his cock springs free you could swear that this piece of meat is your entire life's purpose. All set to be worshiped and serviced, because his delicious existence demands and deserves it. He's so. Fucking. Perfect.
You gaze up at his gorgeous face as you melt in his presence, and finish your sentence. "... so let's make it fucking worth it."
*************** 
The first order you take from Jax Teller, as he finally falls into his role as your master right here in this cellar... is to get your filthy hands off of his dick. You are not to touch it till you've fucking earned it. Like a dog, like the bitch that you are, he tells you to just sit. 
To stay down on your knees and to not move an inch, not even turn your head as he strides toward the far wall behind you, brutally keeping his beautiful self beyond your field of vision for a minute. 
You bite your lip, listening to the footsteps and movements that he won't let you witness. Rustling noises. You hope that he's stripping off his stupid clothes. That when you see him next, he'll be towering over you gorgeously naked.
And God yes, he is, when he returns at last to stand before his bitch. You groan in sheer bliss as your awestruck eyes try to take in every last flawless inch of his smooth, glowing skin. There is just... too much perfection. You couldn't even process the divine glory of Jax in a whole damn lifetime, let alone one split second.
Hypnotized though you are by him, your gaze then shifts to notice what he's holding, and... holy shit. Apparently he hadn't gone to the far wall just to undress. 
He had taken stock of the supplies and other items stored down in this shady cellar and he has returned bearing gifts: a coil of rope, long and thick, and a wicked-looking leather whip.
"Like what you see, huh?" he taunts, no doubt referring to both his new toys and his nude body, especially his dick. "Kinky little bitch. Now get up and strip."
"Yes, Master," you blurt out, rising to your feet, hastening to obey his order.
"Bad slave. You are not to speak until I say you can," Jax commands, taking a deliberate step toward you. With both rope and whip clutched in one fist, he reaches to cup your chin with his other hand. "Do you fucking understand?"
Fighting your burning urge to scream yes sir, somehow you keep your lips sealed and just nod your head.
Jax's blazing blue gaze devours your face as his fingers descend to frame your jawbone, then to close around your throat. "That's a good slut. Keep that dirty mouth shut. Or else you're gonna suffer some serious punishment."
Fuck—hearing him talk like this, while he strangles your neck in his dominant fist, is too much. You've become a trembling mess beneath his touch.
"Mmm, look at you shaking. Desperate piece of shit. I'm starting to think that maybe punishment…" he whispers in your ear as he tightens his grip around your neck, "...is what you fucking want."
Oh God, your inner voice grunts, struggling not to say it aloud. In the most painfully perfect way, the fact that he's choking you now actually makes it easier to stay silent.
His husky growl and twisted words are sending waves of pleasure through your body, hitting all the spots you never knew you had and soaking up your cunt.
"Yeah, you're begging for it. Already ignoring your master's orders. Disobedient bitch," he scoffs, shoving you up against a nearby wall, his every movement rough and quick. "Didn't I tell you to strip?"
Before you can even manage to nod at him, still just staring, Jax's hand drops from your neck down to the fabric of the fancy buttoned cardigan you're wearing. Your daddy is rich, so you typically dress like a spoiled little bitch.
"Need me to show you how to do it? You that fucking stupid?" he sneers, suddenly yanking it off you with just a few effortless jerks of his wrist. "Now take off the rest. And then go stand against that beam. Hands on the wood, head down, with your ass facing me."
Jax steps away, sharp blue glare dark and daunting as he watches his slave scurry to obey. In a matter of seconds, your clothes and shoes have been flung off, and you practically throw yourself against the wooden beam, grabbing the jagged surface desperately, wincing as the splinters graze your fingers. Even that sharp little sting feels good, because this is what Jax wanted.
You keep your head bent low, bowed submissively per your master's orders, breathing shallow as you feel his presence coming toward you from behind, steady and slow. A gasp slips past your throat when you feel his calloused hands upon your wrists, binding your hands to the beam with the thick, heavy rope. The knots securing you in place are strong and tight, expertly tied. This must not be his first time doing this, you realize, beyond turned on by his well-practiced dominance. By just what a masterful master he is.
"Mmm. You look so fucking pretty like this," he rasps, leaning over your body with his massive cock grinding into your ass, sliding against the crack so that you can feel the tip of it, swollen and wet, hovering over the small of your back. One of his hands tugs at your hair, arching your neck backward a bit as his lips attack the soft skin of your throat in a harsh, biting kiss. "Beautiful baby girl, all bound up naked and aching to be punished. You gonna take it? Good and hard, just like the slave you know you are? Gonna be a good little bitch?"
His hot mouth teases at the corner of your lips, knowing how badly you want to kiss him, to taste him, fucking torturing you with it. Though his firm grip on your hair is anchoring your head right where he pleases, you're sure that he can feel the way you struggle now to bob it up and down, to give him your wholehearted yes.
"Yeah, that's it. Ever done this before, you dirty whore? This sweet ass ever taken a beating?"
You're not quite sure how to answer that—certain guys from your past have given your ass a few smacks, here and there, when you asked... but you don't know if that kind of thing really counts as a beating. The dynamic with them was never nearly as brutal and degrading. And they had only ever used their hands; no toys or torture instruments.
"Can't even answer the question? Dumb little bitch," Jax snickers as his face moves away from your neck, standing to his full height behind you, then stepping back so that his dick is no longer brushing against your crack, leaving you feeling emptier than ever at his absence. "Not that it matters. 'Cause I'm sure you ain't ever been beaten like this."
Ohhh shit, you think, inhaling through your teeth with a loud hiss as you feel the first soft touch of leather on your skin, his wicked fucking whip. For now he is just devilishly teasing you with it, tracing lines down your back with the tip.
"This what you want, slut? Gonna need to hear you beg for it," he orders, his other hand still tangled in your hair, pulling your skull more sharply back. "Go on. Open that filthy fucking mouth and tell me what you want."
"Thank you, Master," you whimper, letting all your shameless words fall out. "I want you. God, I want you to beat me. Hurt me. Please. I want pain, if it will bring you pleasure, sir. I want my punishment."
"Mmmmn," Jax growls, clearly incredibly aroused, and you could seriously cum just from that sound. "Bet you do, bitch. Let's see just how bad you want it, huh? See how wet you've gotten. Needy little cunt."
You've already been dripping now, for more minutes than you can count. The next sound you hear is a soft thud, which you're guessing is the whip having been cast down to the ground. Jax needs his right hand free to start going to town on your pussy.
The words that have just come out of his mouth, coupled with the feeling of his fingers making contact with your slick mound, sliding over your clit, slipping into your slit and stirring you up, swirling your wet heat around, then plunging three digits in knuckles deep, pushing in and back out slowly first before he starts to fucking pound... this just brings all the walls inside you crashing down. Floodgates in you burst open on the instant as your arousal uncontrollably gushes out. It's killing you to stay silent through all of this, but you don't dare disobey his orders, don't dare make a sound.
"Holy fuuuck," Jax grunts as he pulls his hand off of your cunt. "So wet. Tight pussy squirting all over your master. Such a dirty fucking slut."
He reaches over you to shove his sloppy, sticky fingers in your mouth, your cheek pressing against the wooden beam, as you obediently suck them clean. You're not usually one to enjoy your own flavor that much, but fuck, it tastes better than ever now that you are being fed by him, the sex god of your dreams.
Then as soon as his fingers pull out, he leans in and angles your head toward him so that he can kiss your mouth, and holy—wow. 
You know right away that you could never get enough of the feel of his full, luscious lips against yours, the taste of his talented tongue as it fucking invades and explores. He hums and groans into the kiss, sending resonant vibrations of his dominance down your throat and all over your mouth, and damn, you kind of really want to die right now.
But you don't. Of course, not yet. More than anything you're still desperate for your punishment.
"Fucking perfect little slave," Jax snarls as he pulls away, and you can hear him squatting down behind you to pick up his whip. 
Before he does, while he's down there on his haunches, he takes the chance to manhandle your ass cheeks, groping firmly and then biting down on one of them, pausing to admire the mark that he made on your flesh with his ravenous teeth, then giving that spot a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and finally a sharp, stinging slap. Your knees buckle from how much you fucking liked that.
"Slut," he chuckles as he gives that cheek a few more smacks, each harder than the last. He makes sure to give the same sweet kinky treatment to the other cheek, biting and kissing then spanking both halves with his big, sturdy hands before he finally picks up his whip, one palm still groping your ass as he stands.
"Ready to feel this whip lashing your pretty little ass?" Jax dominantly asks. "Tell me, slave. How many do you want."
You're so blissed out right now that you barely have control over your lolling tongue. "Uh... uh—a lot."
"That's not a number, slut. Give me a number you can fucking count."
"Ughhhh..." you groan out as he trails the strip of leather wickedly against your ass, "...umm, a hundred?"
A soft laugh escapes his throat. "That's cute. You must be new to this, darlin'. I'm not about to beat you dead."
Some part of you right now kind of likes the sound of that. Which is maybe... sort of... bad? Jax is still talking, so for better or for worse, you don't have time to dwell on that.
"I can do a hundred. But only if each one is... weak... and soft..." he tells you, bending over your body to press his lips against your face again, kissing your cheek, tender and sweet. "Is that what you want? Or does this filthy bitch want it hard?"
His mouth has descended to bite down on your neck as he says it, causing you to cry out in bliss. "Fuck yes, please—hard!"
Jax huffs out another sexy little laugh. "That's what I fucking thought. I'm gonna give you ten to start," he offers, leaving wet kisses on the smooth skin that he'd bitten. "Ten nice and hard. That sound good, baby girl? And you just tell me if you want more. Or... if it's too much, if you ever want me to lighten up, or stop—"
"I won't," you blurt out. "God, Jax, I want... I need you to just fucking beat my ass off."
"Mmmn. Babe, you are fucking amazing, you know that?" he growls, fondly nuzzling your neck for a second before he pulls back, standing behind you, with his rock hard cock once again hovering over your crack. "But Jax ain't my name right now. Is it. What do you call me, slut."
You cringe at your own unforgivable error. "Master. I'm so sorry, sir."
"Yeah, you better be, bitch," he snarls, as the whip that has been gliding delicately over your body suddenly lifts away from your skin. "Fucking take it."
Holy—fucking—shit. The sharp, searing pain that you feel in that instant is so goddamn perfect. Electric, explosive, exquisite. Everything Jax is. Your life as you know it is finished; you live only to serve and to worship this god of a man who deals out such sweet punishment. You love it. You love him.
The rugged velvet sound of his voice in this moment just deepens your love for him, heightens your pleasure. "Count 'em for me, whore," he orders ruthlessly. "Want more?"
"One... Thank you, sir," you sigh, hazy from the incredible high. "Please, Master. More."
For a hell of a long time, Jax gives you everything you beg him for. And every second of the pleasurable pain is so damn dirty, so damn pure, completely perfect. But you both know that, given what a desperate slut and dedicated slave you are, you will literally never want him to stop. So Jax is the one who hits pause, when he decides he should. 
You never wanted it to end, but this is what your master wants—so as much as it saddens you, still you just give in, and still it feels good.
"Damn, baby," he breathes, dropping the whip, gently kneading your ass as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses up your spine with his soft, sinful lips. "Guess I should've known better than to ask you for a number. Such a good little slave. But we're gonna stop here, okay?"
"Yes, Master," you whisper.
"You know why we're gonna stop?" he teases as his mouth reaches the back of your neck. "It's not just because I'm done with beating you. Nah, the real reason is that... there's something even better I've been dying to do."
Part of you already knows what it is. And all of you wants it. Needs it.
Jax tilts your head to claim your mouth in a kiss, as his huge dick aligns with your soaking wet slit. "Mmmn. That's it, bitch," he moans into your lips. "Gonna fucking fuck you."
Every damn thing about Jax Teller is literally magic. So, as his massive cock basically breaks your body in half, as his heavy balls slap up against your cunt with each ferocious thrust so hard and fast, as his dominant hands grope and grab all over your just beaten ass... every inch of you feels so damn blessed upon contact. 
You can't imagine any better way to recover from your punishment. Not that you ever really want to recover from it—mostly you just want more and more of it—but no matter what you want, healing is what you need. 
And Jax heals just as well as he hurts. Even better, in fact. 
Once he's done fucking your pussy rough and dirty, shooting his divine cum deep inside you just the way you beg him to, he unties your ropes and then spends the next hour or so kissing and caressing and cuddling with you, massaging your ravaged ass cheeks with his hands and mouth, taking you to heaven when that sweet mouth eats you out, and even when he lets you worship his cock the way you've been dying to do, even when he grabs your head and fucks your face before he explodes down your throat, even then it still feels like healing. You both really needed that feeling.
He lifts you up to kiss you, deep and slow, on the lips before you are even done swallowing his cum. You let yourself drown in that beautiful face, hoping that Jax knows how damn good he tastes. How perfect he is in every way. That he is a fucking god, that everyone on earth should kneel before him as his slave.
When the kiss finally ends, as you both try to catch your breath for a few seconds, the cold hard fact of your predicament sets in again.
"We should probably put some clothes on, babe," he says, coming down from the high of his sex-heated haze. "Then I've gotta work out a way to escape."
You can tell that Jax sincerely meant it, when he'd promised he would save you from this place, and you don't doubt it for a minute. 
Still, there's no denying that you two are stuck in the middle of some serious deep shit. But after having experienced such punishment and pain and pleasure, such submission and service, such sex and love with Jax Teller, today down in this cellar—which you're pretty sure would not have happened under any other circumstances ever...
"Well," you sigh, breathing in his scent for what you hope won't have to be the final time before you die, "whatever happens next, Jax, this was..."
"Definitely," he cuts in to interrupt you with a few passionate kisses, then smiles down at you so devilishly it's delicious. So hellish it's heavenly. Finishes your sentence and it's just so fucking perfect. "Fucking worth it."
***************
… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️
– Main Masterlist
– Dirty Little Secret Masterlist
***************
Kinkfest Tag List – Join Here!*
*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!
@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @malethirsty @coffeequeenxx @turner-cris @innerpaperexpertcloud @est11 @magic-room @littlebennettwitchsblog @snow-white-74 @sunflower12335 @trishmarieofficial @got-to-love-a-badboy @thesimonkshow @noneofyourbusinessssblog @notquitecannon @travistheaussie @alexa-rae-dreamz @i-love-scott-mccall @band--psycho @helloheyhihowdyheya @beth-winchester21 @inlovewithcharliehunnam @amberembers @pedritomando @badboy86uk @scarletmeii @barbiewasacommunist @englishmuffinwritesbooks @addcrastinator3 @southrenlove @malikadnan77 @thesuicidalflower @gemini0410 @louisianalady @ravynfenyx @weasleytwins-41 @mariska0610 @zozebo @christycarnell6 @i-hav-no-life @labramusic01 @thatgirljayy @boredintheglade @guerra-e-paes @charliehunnamlove @rayslittlekitten @heyitskat101 @dilftony @velvetcardiganbucky @midnight-dreams-23 @celine-and-hafiz @romanreigns-supreme @synnersaint @writtingbyacrazyperson @norwegian-princess @itsmycorneroftheinternet @suicidepanda07 @abby-splace @gunmybear8o @luv-nd-serenity @ficsilovetoreadwithcats @missusnora @starstruckbluebirdtriumph @kesskirata @msmorganforever @jeeperky @spactucs-blog @sinnforsir @leilani-writes [hit the 50-tag limit – list to be continued in a reblog of this fic]
244 notes · View notes
skiyoosmi · 3 years
Text
if fate permits
⤷ chapter twenty six: spotlight
prev < masterlist > next
Tumblr media
It was no surprise to people who always saw Atsumu that his eyes were constantly filled with a glitter that just managed to shine regardless of whether it was day or night. Volleyball, volleyball, and volleyball - perhaps, if you take time to ask these people what they think is the reason for that glitter, that would be their only answer. To those who truly knew him though, their answer might just be a tad bit different. Sakusa YN - from the moment he met you up to the present, a certain gleam seems to appear whenever you are the center of the topic. At least, that’s what Osamu has observed.
Kiyoomi concluded it’s just him unconsciously being a hopeless romantic for you. The grey haired lad remembers him saying it was pathetic, as always. But then again, he couldn’t deny the truth behind your brother’s words.
That said, he also knows that no one would have expected the same set of bright eyes to dull its sparkle. Unfortunately for the two of them (or three if you count Kiyoomi based on how often he visits the two of them now), you managed to take it away from him. There in the couch where you once sat during movie nights laid Atsumu, staring at the endless nothing, tears occasionally welling up his eyes as he remembers you, the way you looked at him as strangers do - empty, loveless, cautious.
It was karma. No matter how many times he tries to repeat it himself, it just doesn’t ease the thorns that prick his heart every millisecond that passes and every time, he just feels so sorry because he knows you felt the same pain before. How have you managed to get through it for more than twenty years? He has no idea because he sure as hell won’t be able to last one more day with it. Still, he can’t do anything but sit, mull over his self-sabotaged fate.
As he drowns himself deeper into his misery, a series of vigorous knocks disturb the twins’ “peace.” Osamu furrows his eyebrows together, a sense of oddness and urgency coming to him because Kiyoomi doesn’t knock that way - even when it comes to announcing his presence, your brother tries to be as prim and respectful as possible, knocking only thrice before waiting for the door to be opened, another three when he thinks no one heard him from the inside. Hence why the continuous knocks annoyed the grey haired.
Still, he begrudgingly sauntered towards the door and opened it, mouth ready to scold the person in front of him but he got beaten to it, “Where’s Atsumu?”
In her usual get up, Yui stood, a very much obvious fake smile plastered on her face and Osamu wanted nothing but to grab her hair and drag her to the deepest parts of hell for making you suffer (no one gets to do that except for him, he’s the only one who has the ‘drinking buddy and best friend’ privilege’).
Mentally, he took a deep breath before mustering the most sincere smile he can give her (it’s strained and forced, he knows it deep down), “Hello, Yui-san. I don’t think today’s the best day to-”
Before he could finish his sentence, Yui shoved past him and walked inside the house, acting as if she owned it. Osamu watched her trudge her way towards the living room in disbelief, fists clenching so hard it was painful already. Oh dear lord, please… just for today, let me strangle this woman… I’m willing to spend the rest of my life in jail if it means I get to do that for YN.
“Atsumu-kun!” She squeals upon seeing the blonde, ungracefully throwing her whole body to him, much to his shock (and annoyance).
“Y-Yui? What the fuck?” He shoves her away from him and backs up, creating a space which makes Osamu cheer quietly and form a devilish smile. Obviously not expecting the unappreciated response to her actions, she huffs, “You didn’t have to push me that hard, jerk Atsumu! That hurt me!”
“Yui-san…” Atsumu sighed exasperatedly, “I’m not in the mood, okay? Just… just leave, please?”
Yui’s smile disappears from her face and soon, an angry expression replaces it, “You’re such an ungrateful asshole, Miya. I’m busy and here I am, making time for you and you’re telling me to leave? Me?! THE Yui you wanted so much before? How dare y-”
“I didn’t ask you to come here, didn’t I? Just fucking read the room, Yui. I don’t like you here, not right now, not ever. I’m sorry but whatever I thought before, I was wrong. So just fucking leave,” he spat, patience running dry because all he wanted was sulk his life away in the couch.
As if finally being enlightened by the current situation, Yui begins to laugh, “Oh. my. god. Did she finally tell you? Wait… did she actually cut your thread? That’s why you look so miserable right now?”
Atsumu stands up from the couch, disbelief all over his face, “You knew?!”
The girl continues to holler her ugly laugh, “Ah, so hilarious! Of fucking course, Atsumu! One look at her pathetic face and I knew. Hell, I didn’t even need a Moira to figure it out. It was so fun, acting all sweet with the clueless you… and there she is, on the verge of tears every time!”
She wipes the fake tears away from her eyes, “But I guess she got tired too. I mean… you’re just so dumb, Atsumu. So hopeless and so easy to play with,” her fingers trace his jawline, rolling her eyes and snickering when he slapped it away from him.
“Now that I think about it again, you two shouldn’t have played Cinderella. You fit more into the criteria of Sleeping Beauty… you’re like Aurora, was it? But like, without the cure of a kiss because you ruined your true love! That’s my curse for you!”
The blonde grits his teeth, tears uncontrollably falling down his cheeks despite his desperation to stop them. Yui sees it and lets out a fake coo, “Aww, look at you, crying. You must be feeling so guilty, huh? It’s okay, I’m here… I can be the princess you’ve always wanted. You just have to behave like the foolish little prince you are.”
Osamu curses, taking a step forward to drag the girl out of their home but a voice stops him from doing so, “Is it fun? Playing with people’s fates like toys?”
Yui and Atsumu whip their head towards the source of the voice and Osamu is filled with relief upon seeing your brother standing, an unamused look on his face. Clearly liking the attention she was getting, Yui replies, “Ooh, what are you all? Avengers for YN? Protection squad or something? But to answer your question, yes! I’m enjoying it very much… but that doesn’t concern you, does it, Sakusa-kun?”
Kiyoomi paused for a second, removing his shoes and leaving them by the door, walking nearer the two, not too close but just enough to show her his height and intimidate her somehow, “You’re right, it doesn’t. If anything, I’m glad it’s all over now so my sister doesn’t have to suffer in between your acts of foolishness. But for some reason,” he trails off, looking down at her and throwing a look of disgust, “I pity you - because your fate is just as fucked up as theirs - your soulmate doesn’t remember you too and looking at you right now, something is telling me that you regret it too… because you have no one left. No Iwaizumi, no Atsumu.”
Judging by the way she glared at him, Kiyoomi feels a sense of accomplishment for hitting right on the nail.
“You-!”
“How unfortunate, Yui-san… the spotlight is not on you anymore.”
Tumblr media
Silence filled the house right after Yui rapidly walked out of the house, a string of curses for your brother flowing out of her mouth. But Kiyoomi couldn’t care any less; instead, he turns to Atsumu who was already looking at him in awe before snapping off his thoughts and mumbling, “Omi… uhm… thank you.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” is the only thing he replies, “I won’t do anything for you...”
Atsumu swallows harshly, the bitter truth making it hard for him to do so, “Right.”
“... at least not anymore after this one,” he finishes, handing the blonde some neatly folded documents. Osamu smiles from where he stood, side-leaning against the doorway leading to the kitchen, as if he already had an idea what the papers were for. His twin’s eyes scan them and as if by a miracle, a familiar glitter appears in them, accompanied by a hopeful expression as he lifts his head and looks at your brother.
“Omi, this…”
“Be ready in three months. I hope you’re not scared of riding planes.”
Tumblr media
note. i'm so sorry for the very very long gap between these updates T_T i swear i'll try to update more frequently now, at least school's being less of an ass these days (don't say sike pls)
275 notes · View notes
straykidsworldwild · 3 years
Text
Duskwood
Phil Hawkins x MC
Part 1 : MC is having a horrible, horrible day and she goes to the Aurora to have a drink.
(⚠️Sad. Some swearing ⚠️)
_____________________________________________
Heyy guys!! Here's a little Phil Hawkins one shot part 1 because there's not enough Duskwood imagines 🙈
Tumblr media
(pictures aren't mines but I made the collage and the character aren't mines. All rights go to Duskwood creators and owners of the pics.)
----------------------------------------------------------
My day was total crap... I don't believe I've had such a horrible day before. Or at least, not for a long time... It feels like everything is falling apart little by little. Like nothing is meant to go normally. I woke up like any other day, and yet, it feels like I woke up in a chaotic world where everything is meant to go wrong... Since that call, everything is going downhill...
The night has fallen which means I have officially done my day. It felt like forever... Like I am in an endless loop... And since I was meant to do the closing, my day felt even longer than usual. I just finished cleaning the little restaurant I worked at and closed it. It's not a job I would want to do my whole life, even though it is nice to work in a restaurant, but I need money to pay for my college study. My mom is helping pay for them, but I'm trying to pay as much as I can on my own. Anyway... I am walking in the streets of Duskwood which are beamed by the streetlights. It is surprisingly emptier than usual. I guess it's due to the rain... Like my day wasn't cloudy enough already... I think I need a break... Yeah... I need a drink...
I walk toward a familiar building, some greenish-blueish light lightening the area. Aurora... The famous bar of Duskwood owned by my best friend's brother. I've rarely been there alone... Usually I go with the rest of the group. But I really need... Ugh... Maybe I should just go home? Isn't it too late to go there anyway? Ugh... I'm asking myself too many questions. I guess a drink really won't hurt. I reach the door before falling face to face with a sign. CLOSED. Great... I sigh disappointed as I am standing under the rain. Oh... But he is still here. Through the window, I can see a familiar figure cleaning the place. Oh well, I'm neither here nor there... I lift my hand and knock on the door of the bar. The man turned around as I got his attention. I cross my arms over my chest and notice that the rain has already soaked my hair and my vest. I must look awful... The man comes up to the door and opens it for me.
- Gorgeous! Come in before you catch a cold, tells me, the man, using that nickname he always does. I don't know why he does it... I never heard him calling other girls like this. Well, he does use pet names but not this specific one. I step in the bar and he closes the door behind me. You know I love you very much but I'm about to close so... He begins to tell me with his famous smirk despite the little fatigue I can see on his face. His hair is held up in a bun as he usually does when he works. He is wearing a white shirt, letting his huge tattoo on his neck appear, and a black trousers. By the sight of his eyes, I can tell he had a long day too...
- I just need one drink, Phil, I simply answer to my friend. My voice sounded so... Tired and flat. Phil looks at me with a slight surprise, losing slowly his smile. I guess the sound of my voice surprised him. Please... I plead to him with the same tone.
- I would never say "no" to my favorite customer, would I? He answers with a smirk. I faintly smile back at him, happy that finally something goes well. For now... He could have said "no". The two of us walk over to the bar and I sit on a stool while he goes behind the counter. We're alone in the bar since he was about to close so it's pretty quiet. The usual I guess, he tells me with his deep and calm voice.
- Actually... Whiskey. Pure, I reply, stopping him in his momentum. Phil looks back at me for a second, processing my words.
- Wow, I knew you had that wild part in you, Gorgeous, but I didn't think I would ever see it, he tells me with a surprised tone again. Yet, he doesn't seem to dislike it. Phil gets two glasses and he pours a little bit of the beverage in the glasses.
- A little more, please... I tell him with the same flat and tired voice. I stop myself from letting a long sigh out. Again, I feel his eyes burning me before he pours a little more alcohol. Thanks, I thank him.
- On the house, he tells me, leaning against the counter as he raises his glass. I was about to retort but he gave me a look, telling me he won't change his mind.
- Double thanks, I thank him again, clinking my glass with him before taking a sip. Argh... That tastes awful! I can feel the liquid burning my throat.
- So... I know I act like I am very happy to see you, which is the case, don't get me wrong, Gorgeous, he begins to tell me before rapidly correcting himself. But I also see that you're not fine, MC, Oh... I look down as I take a deep breath in. It must not be very hard to see I had a bad day then... Usually I can hide it pretty well... But right now. It's too deep, too much. I'm not even sure "bad" is a strong enough word to describe how crappy my day was. What's wrong? He asks me, sounding calm, gentle and interested, yet, with a point of concern.
- I'm okay, Phil, I softly respond to my friend while slowly shaking my head negatively.
- Mmh... This "I'm okay" sounded more like a "I'm-not-okay-but-I-am-putting-a-brave-face-on". Like a hidden call for help, he tells me gently, yet, seriously. His deep voice is just so... Irresistible, and always so calm. Who could resist it? Well... I guess at this moment I can. My mind is too bothered and busy right now. I crack a very faint smile before looking down at my glass again. I take a sip of it and lightly grimace to the taste of the drink. Who hurt you? He asks me seriously as he takes a cigarette and the lighter. Who… Why someone and not something?
- It's not about me, I respond in a whisper, lying to him. I hate talking about myself when I'm down. I don't want to bother people with my problems... I don't want to be the one to bring negative vibes. Oh no... I turn lightly my head to the side as I feel the tears coming up. I need a break... I need to break.
- Lie, he simply says. I don't look at him and I don't contradict him either. What happened? He asks again with seriousness, not letting this subject aside. I don't answer again. I can feel a lump in my throat. The tears are thick in my eyes and threatening to fall at any time now. MC, talk to me. I'm not here to judge you or... I hide my face even more as I can't stop myself from grimacing sadly. I can't take it... I let a sob out accidentally as if my body is talking for myself. I want to scream. But I can't... MC... He calls me with concern. Phil puts down his cigarette and walks around the counter to join my sides. I don't move and keep my back to him. I hate when people see me crying... Phil puts his hand on my shoulder so I could face him but I push it away, not too harshly, but not too gently either. I let another sob out as I closed my eyes. The tears are so thick and warm... There's so much emotion in them. They roll down my cheeks regularly, evacuating my pain. Without saying a word, I feel a pair of arms holding me. A chest lays against my back. My hair was all wet... His shirt must be wet too by now. It's okay, MC, I hear him whispering. I should push him away. I know how Phil is with girls... Isn't it too easy to cry in front of him and him then being too nice? I know he is my friend and my best friend's brother, but... God, I'm lost. Usually I go to Jessy or I call her. But I came here... Why? Ugh...
- I'm sorry... I whisper shakily through my sobs. I came for a drink and I ended up breaking in front of him...
- No, it's okay. Get it out, he says with a comforting and calm tone. It actually sounds weird coming from him... I know Phil for a few years and he was never like this. I mean, he is always calm but caring like this? That's rare... More than rare. Long minutes later, I slowly calm down. I am still breathing lightly shakily but I'm not sobbing anymore. Only a few tears here and there stream down my eyes. I take a deep breath in and out before wiping my cheeks. I don't remember when was the last time I cried this much... It hurts. It hurts so much. I accumulated too much. I didn't break when mom told me about my uncle's death… I guess I didn't realize what was real and happening at the moment… Or I didn't want to believe it… That built up on my nerves and… This is the result. Slowly, I pull myself away from Phil who didn't let go of me one second. I turn around to face him, but avoid his eyes. Like I thought, the top of his shirt is all wet, letting his tattoos appear a little more on his chest. I'm still confused about what just happened... That's not me to cry in front of people like this... And that's definitely not the Phil I know. Tell me what's wrong, Gorgeous, he says seriously, still wanting to know what got me in such a state. He never gives up...
- Everything, I answer back, my voice lightly breaking. I wipe my cheeks again as I clear my throat. To begin with, when I woke up this morning, I learned that my uncle had passed away during the night. He drove a truck from a country to another and... I explain to him, confessing the terrible news that started this awful day of mine. However, I couldn't bring myself to finish my sentence. I bring my hand over my heart and press on it as if it would take the pain away. Since the call... Just saying those words hurts just as much as saying them in my head. If not more...
- I'm sorry to hear that, he apologizes sincerely.
- Me too... Thanks... But that's not it, I thank him with a sad tone before lightly sniffling. After receiving my mom's call to tell me this awful news, I went to work today because I couldn't stay home. I needed to get my mind busy and to... Not think about the incident, I confess as I feel a new tear rolling down my cheek. My uncle and I were close, you know? He kind of raised me with my mom since my dad left her when she told him about me, I admit to the boy. I watch Phil frowning as he discovers a part of my life that I don't usually bring up. Why am I telling him all of this? It's not like he cares anyway... Does he? Anyway, to continue this unpleasant day, I had the pleasure to meet very unpleasant and rude customers all day long. Like this one call wasn't enough already... One of the customers said that they didn't want me as their waitress because I've got curves, some others telling me I was too long when in reality I just walked away from their table, a couple literally told me I gave them the wrong command and threw their drinks at me, and another one insulted me because there wasn't anymore sandwich like he wanted, I tell him all of this in just one single breath. Yet, you could hear how tired and hurt I am right now. I guess the death of my uncle adding this unnecessary crap was just too much at once. And to add more, my boss is cutting half my pay off because I accidentally broke a cup... A damn cup! Can this day get any worse? I finish to say as I look away, letting a heavy and shaky sight out as another tear rolls down my face. My hand is still over my heart as if I am protecting it all while trying to reject all negative emotions. Suddenly, two fingers softly come grabbing my chin and force me to lift my head up.
- Your boss is a dick, MC. Always have been, always will be, he tells me, the sound of those words sounding familiar. How many times did he already say this to me? I stopped counting... But I should listen, he is right. And f**k those customers. They're not happy? Tell them to go to another restaurant, he responds seriously. His deep voice sounds so calm despite the upset look he has on his face. Am I upsetting him or is he upset because of what happened to me today?
- Right, I kind of need to keep my job despite everything. But you can go tell them that, I respond with a small scoff, yet, trying to use sarcasm.
- Sure, give me names and faces and I'll find them, he replies playfully, yet a point of seriousness heard in his voice. I smile to his answer, appreciating his concern and protectiveness. Though, I never thought it would ever happen one day. Phil is... Not the last person I'd go to to talk but definitely not the first one either... Usually. I look away again and lightly sniffle. Phil wipes some of my tears away. His hands are so soft... It's weird. I've never seen you cry before, he whispers. I look back up at him, watching him slightly frowning. That's true... Not sure a lot of people saw me crying before either... Not even Jessy. I weakly nod before shrugging.
- How does it feel to watch a girl crying in front of you? I reply slightly playfully. Jessy's brother grabs something on the other side of the counter before handing it to me. Tissues... I take them from his hand, thanking him.
- It's painful. When it's you... It's different... Painful, he responds, taking his cigarette again. Oh... I wasn't waiting for an answer like this one. I was waiting for him to say "Can you just stop thinking for a moment?" Or "Stop crying over so little"... But none of that. I watch Phil blowing some smoke, making sure it doesn't go in my face.
- Is the womanizer Phillip Hawkins starting to be an emotional guy? I question him with a playful tone, cracking a smile. I think it's the first time today that I cracked a smile. A real one, I mean.
- No, he's the same dick, he answers, shaking his head left to right while chuckling. Oh... Of course. That would have been too surreal. I'm not going to lie, Phil is a good looking guy. His long hair, his tattoos looking so cool, his piercing, the way he dresses, his voice,... Just the way he is is attractive. The sound of his chuckle runs through my body.
- He admits it, I reply as I feel myself smiling more and more as the tears are coming to a stop. Prove it, I tell him with a daring tone. Phil leans against the counter, smirking.
- Wanna stay with me, tonight? At my place. The bed is comfy and big enough for us two, he proposes seriously to me, a point of flirt in his voice. I know he is being serious. I can hear it in his voice. And that look of his... I know girls don't refuse him generally. But I'm not them. And I don't want to end up in his bed just for one night and then nothing. That's not me... That's not who I am. That's not what I want. He can be incredibly good looking and just be his amazing self, I'll still refuse.
- I don't do one night stands, Phil, I remind him seriously.
- I know... He replies, a slight hidden note of his tone telling me he is disappointed. It's no secret that Phil has been liking me for a while. He has tried to ask me a few times before but I declined them all for... Obvious reasons. Let's do two then, he suddenly says, half joking, half serious.
- Phil! I exclaim as I chuckle.
- It's okay. I'll accept even three nights. Or more. I won't mind, Gorgeous, he continues to say, but I can tell he is joking this time. I softly laugh while shaking my head. There's that smile I love, he states, sounding satisfied with himself for making me smile. Honestly, Gorgeous, don't mind those idiots. Don't let them get to you, he advises me seriously as he finishes his whiskey.
- I don't usually. But I thought going to work was going to help me forget that awful news for a moment. I went there hoping to clear my head. I guess it was just too much today and I needed to break. Sorry it had to be you watching me like this, I answer and apologize to the boy as I take a sip of my drink. Ugh... It's the last time I take Whiskey... I lightly grimace and put the glass down.
- I'm not. If you ever have a bad day again and feel the need to talk, don't hesitate knocking on my door. Even if it's closed. It's always open for you, he tells me seriously and sincerely. Honestly, I haven't met that guy before... Where's the Phil I know?
- Thanks, Phil, I thank him before stepping down the stool. I step up twice and take him in my arms. The man envelops me back in a warm embrace, running softly his hand on my back. I pull my head away and place a kiss on his cheek as a thank you. And before you think of anything spicy, that kiss on the cheek is the farthest you'll ever have, I rapidly tell him, a point of warning in my voice, yet, using a playful tone.
- You're definitely killing me with kindness, MC. My poor heart pays dearly, he tells me with a frustrated tone before I watch him taking my glass of Whiskey. Oh... He winks and takes a sip from it. Oh yeah, drink that thing... I don't like it anyway. And I think he noticed it...
- Moh, maybe one of those girls coming here could put a bandage on it to heal it, I say with some sarcasm, yet, with some dislike heard into it. I always hated that those girls could "help" him... I mean, what do they have? What does he see in them? Before anything said, no, I'm not jealous... I just don't like him with other girls...
- They could. But will it be worth it? He answers while nodding before taking his cigarette and blowing so smoke away.
- You tell me. You're the one who can't resist "beautiful women", I reply to the man, stating his own words. Phil smiles and chuckles lightly to my comment.
- They can definitely help at a low point, he answers, agreeing. Right... Wait, at a low point?
- At a low point? What do you mean? I ask him with a confused tone.
- I can sleep with every woman that wants me. But, in the end, it will never mean anything like... Like when you're with me, he suddenly tells me, lowering his head lightly. His smile disappeared, showing seriousness. Did I hear him right? Did he just say those words? I stare at the man, confused and speechless. Me? Why...? Since when...? Ugh... He had a few drinks today, didn't he? Phil looks back up at me, but his eyes give a quick look at my lips.
- I'm sorry. I'm trying but... Are those words really coming from you or... Did you have any drinks before? I demand him seriously, yet, with a playful tone to keep a cool atmosphere. Arguing with him is the last thing I want. Phil cracks a smile but it doesn't stay long.
- I know I play a lot around with different girls. I know what you think of me. I'm a f**k boy. And I know I tried several times to get a night with you. But... It's not just a night that I want and you don't seem to see that, he replies, not denying who he is but also kind of reproaching me to not open my eyes about him. Well… How could I? If he doesn't tell me, I only see things the way I see them... I nod positively before looking down. Why do I feel a little sorry suddenly? I shouldn't... There's something different with you, MC. You're different. From all the others. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to dirty you. I don't want to play with you. I don't want to break you, he tells me gently and seriously. I slowly look back up at him and notice how close he is to me. Was he that close to me before? I can feel my heart beating like crazy down my chest. It's wrong... It feels right, but it's wrong. I know it...
- Phil... I gently whisper his name as I a look down again.
- I love you, MC, he interrupts me with his calm and deep voice. What...? I stare at him with wide eyes, surprised by the words I just heard. I didn't even know he knew how to say them… Especially while sounding sincere. He meant those words. I love you like I have never loved a woman before. And I'm not talking about loving the "pretty woman" that you are. No, I mean... He sighs. You're pretty. You're more than pretty. You're prettier than all of those girls and I am not talking just about the way you look. I just... Again, I hear Phil sighing. Despite the fast that he stays calm, I can sense some nervousness coming from him which is unusual. Phil is never nervous, especially around a woman. He is the exact opposite actually. He is pretty confident about himself. He talks easily, flirts easily… You're not a price I want to win or a pride to have f**ked in bed. You have this thing that the others don't have. You're special, he says with the same calm and slight nervous tone. Phil looks straight before him as he blows some smoke. Special... He noticed this little thing in me, which I didn't know I had…
- You really noticed that small thing in me? Because, honestly, I'm everything but special. I can assure you, I demand and tell him with a point of shiness. Wow... I didn't think I would have sounded so shy all of a sudden...
- I told you. I love you. And you know those words don't come out of my mouth easily. Actually, I don't think I ever said them to someone before, he replies seriously and gently before taking a last blow and putting out his cigarette. I stare at him, not really knowing how to react. I mean, of course it does make me feel something. There's... There are those butterflies flying in my belly. My heart is racing and my cheeks feel a little warm... Maybe a little more than a little, actually. I know I feel something for him. I can't deny it… But there's still things in the way...
- Honestly, I'm discovering another man right now. Why don't you show this side of yours to people? Pride? Male ego? I demand him with a small confused tone, yet curious.
- I am who I am, he simply answers.
- Mmh... Well, I like this Phil better, I answer him as I crack a smile. Phil looks at me and his serious face turns into a smiling one again.
- So, would you go out one night? Or during a lunch break? He proposes to me, hope heard in his voice. Oh... Well... I know your days are long and I work at night too so it'll be short but... He tells me gently, reminding us of our busy lives. Right, there's not a lot of moments where we can meet… But do I want to meet him like this? I mean, yes, I want to but… Do I want to get in something like this? In an uncertain relationship where I'll fear he goes to see someone else to distract himself from me? Despite this side of him, he is still Phil in the end...
- If you do this to only get me in your bed... I whisper, interrupting him. I hope it's not a plan of his to get me in his bed... That'll be the worst thing he could do... Especially as being my friend first...
- I do this to win your heart. As cheesy as it sounded... Nothing more, he tells me seriously, staring into my eyes. Speechless, I stare at him as well. For once in my life, I just want to do right. Especially with you… For you… Because of you... But it's only if you want to, he responds sincerely to me, looking serious. It's actually a little disturbing. Phil has always had respect for everyone, including me. He always respected that I didn't want a one time thing… What changed?
- I don't know, I whisper, confused by the situation. It's not that I don't want to be with him nor that I don't like him. On the contrary. I love Phil. But... There's few things in the way...
- Because of my past with women? He asks me, sounding really confused that I won't accept. I'm certainly the only woman telling him "no". Especially after a few tries.
- Yes... And because of my insecure self. Look at you and look at me. You own an amazing bar, I work as a waitress with a crappy boss. You look cool and get well and easily along with people, I look like that discreet and shy girl who is nothing more than being awkward. And you're my best friend's brother. And there's the age gap, which is the least that bothers me, I tell him everything that I thought on why I don't say "yes" to him. I mean... I think he can understand where I'm coming from. I hope... I don't want to lose a friend, in a way, just because of that...
- You're perfect the way you are, MC. Nobody will take that thought out of my mind, he states seriously. I notice how his eyes are alternating from my own to my lips. They keep going up and down. He seems eager...
- Right... You said it, not me, I say with a disbelieving tone, yet a playful one while I giggle. A small smile comes on my face which keeps growing more and more. I'm not going to lie, but hearing him saying those words do something inside me.
- And I believe it, he says while nodding. He does... I stare at him for a moment, the two of us plunge into a deep silence. It's not awkward... It's intense, but not awkward. I'm just so not confident with myself. What if he is playing me? And what if he is not? Ugh… I should let go sometimes... Really... I could open doors I didn't even think I had the key of.
- Tomorrow. Meet me for lunch if you're free. We can start there to see how it goes, I propose to the man which, I notice, makes him smile instantly.
- Is it a date? He asks with a smirk. Well...
- I'm not sure... Maybe... We'll see, I reply unsure, yet, smirking back at him. Yes, I'm entering his game easily... Was it right? Though, we could hear this point of shyness in my voice.
- Will I get to finally kiss you? He then asks, slowly getting even more closer to me. Oh... I can feel my heart racing a little more, hearing it beat in my ears. He's making me so nervous… Kiss me… Is that all he wants?
- Phil... I whisper his name, annoyed, as I lightly title my head on the side.
- What? I showed you a part of me, doesn't mean the other one is gone, he answers with a not so innocent tone, still smirking at me. I keep staring at him a little annoyed despite the amused smile on my face. Alright, just lunch, he says, agreeing. I nod back positively. And a hug? He rapidly asks.
- A hug? I ask, surprised and confused. Phil winks at me. I can see he is waiting for an actual answer. Oh well... Sure. Whatever. I've got to go home. It's getting late, I agree before standing up from the stool. I didn't think but, when I stood up, my face got so close to his. At this moment, when my eyes met his, it was as if the time had stopped for a second. Slow motion. It was like I couldn't remember what reality looked like. I feel my cheeks starting to burn before I look down to hide my certainly blushing face from him. Why did I have to happen to have a crush on him? Why him? Why does he make me feel this way? I clear my throat quietly and start walking towards the door.
- Be careful on your way home. Tell me once you're there, he tells me as he follows me behind.
- I will, I reply. I was about to open the door when his hand grabbed the handle first. My fingers brushed his. I retrieve my hand and let him open the door for me. Still with my cheek lightly burning from previously, I manage to cross sight with his eyes and smile at him. Thanks for the night, the drink, holding me when I cried, and for listening to me, Phil, I thank him sincerely as I weakly nod to the man.
- You're very welcome, Gorgeous, he responds with his deep and calm voice while smiling back at him. That damn smile... Goodnight, MC, he wishes me softly.
- Goodnight, Phil, I wish him back. The two of us exchange one last look and smile before I walk out of his bar. I put my hands in my pockets and walk home.
I'm not sure what exactly happened there... I went to the bar to have a drink to relax and take my mind off and I ended up with Phil holding me when I broke down and accepting to have lunch together. Will it be a date? Will it actually go somewhere? Was he being serious? So many questions burning my mind... I will see how tomorrow goes. I'll have so much to do tomorrow, anyway... Mom is certainly going to call me for the funerals, my work is going to be tiring as always, and the lunch with Phil... I wonder what Jessy will say if she knew that her brother and I are going on a... Lunch? Date? Whatever it's called... Will she be okay with... What we're doing? Will she mind if I go out with her brother? Ugh, why do I already think of things like this? I'm not there yet... Anyway... I think I just need some sleep right now, nothing more. If I manage to actually fall asleep once I'll be home and in my bed… It promises to be a long night...
123 notes · View notes
izzy-belle-reads · 3 years
Text
Kitchen
I haven’t written anything since 2014 and it’s my first time writing in english, so please, don’t judge too harshly. 
Huge thank you to @clarensjoy for organizing Hinny Ficfest. 
Prompt: 8. “Seriously? In the kitchen?”
*
It has been a quiet morning. Most mornings in July were quiet - children still resting after finishing another school year. Thanks to that Ginny could prepare breakfast in peace. But before breakfast - coffee. 
Definitely coffee.
After a night like the last one, she needed and, in her humble opinion, deserved it. She made a pot and sat at the table. I need to start writing this Wasps versus Cannons article today, she thought. It would take a better part of the day so this quiet time alone couldn’t be long. 
In a few moments she started making breakfast, until she heard footsteps on the stairs. ‘You should have woken me up, I could help.’ whispered Harry, trying not to wake the kids. He looked still half asleep - in his bottle green pajamas (present from her mother, because everything had to match his eyes, but she had to agree, he looked quite dashing) and unruly hair, even wilder than usual. She loved seeing him like that, when he wasn’t worrying about some dark wizards, his features and posture completely relaxed - it probably only happened in their home. 
‘It’s fine, you needed a rest’ she said with a smirk.
He stood behind her, put his arms around her body and kissed her neck - his beard tickled her, but she suppressed a giggle. ‘Yeah, but you could stay in bed so we could rest together… or do some other staff.’ Between every few words he kissed her again and again, so she moved her head to give him better access to the base of her neck. 
‘This some other staff sounds interesting… You think you can keep up after last night?’ she joked not really thinking about what she was saying, she was too much focused on his hand slowly going under her shirt. 
‘Och, so now you think I’m old?’ he laughed. ‘I don’t think - I know that…’ she started but couldn’t say more when he turned her around, lifted and put her on the table and kissed her hungrily on the mouth. She put her hands in his hair, legs around waist and his hand was on her breast. 
So caught up in eachother, they didn’t hear footsteps on the stairs.
‘Seriously? In the kitchen?’
They stopped kissing and looked at James. He was clearly disgusted, ‘We eat at this table, remember? Plus, aren’t you two way too old -’.
‘Why are you awake already?’ Harry interrupted his son.
‘Not like I could sleep at night anyway’ he replied, still indignant, he was moving his hands while speaking. ‘You two were… Seriously, you should finally remember to put a silencing charm…’ 
‘Okay, okay, we get it. You want porridge? Great, now go wake up your siblings.’ Ginny tried to change the subject. 
‘Oh, I don't’ know, can I leave you two alone? Or should I warn Al and Lily before coming down?’
‘Don’t know - should you?’ Harry tried to joke, but James continued sarcastically ‘I’m the responsible older brother and as such I can’t put my siblings at risk of seeing our parents at -’
‘Please, just go’ Harry wanted this conversation to end, Ginny tried to keep her face straight, not to laugh. 
James said ‘Disgusting.’ to his parents and turned around, while walking upstairs he was mumbling to himself how gross they were. 
‘So, we forgot the charm. Again.’ Ginny said, now openly laughing. 
‘He’s fifteen - everything we do is gross and disgusting. But maybe we should try not to scar him for life’ Harry joked.
‘Oh, it’s too late, but Albus and Lily are fine.’
‘Cheers. Porridge?’ 
128 notes · View notes
lavenderwhore444 · 3 years
Text
My Hero
Dabi x Reader Warnings: Fluff, angst, very lovely romantic smut, swearing, violence but like punching walls and shit nothing big, Dabis backstory isn't spoiled I don't reveal his last name I swear, when he cries it's not like crying (obvi no tear ducts) but like the kind of crying where you’re crying but no tears come out
to use: input your name as y/n, I don't use your quirk in this. To input your quirk use y/q. To change different things click “change something other than y/n” and follow the directions.
InteractiveFics
Master List
@issamomma I hope it's tolerable ❤️
“Hey! I see your requests are open. In light of all the recent spoilers, can I ask for something very sappy and self indulgent? Can I get a large fluff angst Dabi combo where he goes off about being the most powerful villain but all he ever wanted to be was a hero and the only time he’s ever truly felt like a good man and like he’s #1 is with y/n? With a side of mild romantic smut but hold the gluten? Thanks. 💕🙏🏻 If not, no worries. I’m gonna stalk your page and read more of your stuff now.”
This story is like compressed if that makes sense for some reason my brain just smashed everything that happens into one day 😃🔫
Honestly, I might write another version? Idk but I CANT START OVER AGAIN
Here's a song I like
undefined
youtube
“G’morning Dabi, ” you said, rolling over to hold him.
When you were met with a Dabi-free bed, panic immediately set in.
You peeked through the door, “Dabi?” you called
“Right here, babe, ” he said from the kitchen.
The smell of syrup filled your nose, and you realized that Dabi, the number two villain, was making you pancakes. Your bare feet hit the soft carpet as you walked to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed the back of his left shoulder.
“You are amazing, Dabi, ” you mumbled against his shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah whatever, don't get sappy y/n, ” he said.
You ran your hands up and down his stomach, taking a deep breath to smell his cologne.
“Stop distracting me y/n they're gonna burn, ” he grumbled.
“Fine, fine!” You said.
You let go of him to put on a pot of coffee only to see that he had made coffee just the way you like.
“Jeez, did you kill a puppy or something because if so, apology accepted, ” you said.
“No, I didn't kill a fucking puppy. I just wanted to do something nice for you, ” he said, “but if youre gonna make it a big deal everytime-”
“Nope, nevermind, I'll be quiet, ” you interrupted.
Dabi finished making breakfast, and you both sat down at the table. He was quite proud of himself, seeing you smile at him when you first came down, feeling you wrap your arms around him, kissing him. It made his chest feel warm and light. Don't get the wrong idea. He’d never do anything like this for anyone else, no matter what. Only you, he was only soft for you. He even washed the dishes saying that “it was more meaningful if I do them myself, ”
You sat in the living room, talking about anything and everything. It had taken the better part of three years, but Dabi was an open book. He had cried on your shoulder, you had watched him bleed. You had stapled him together, watched him go about all his villainous deeds, and never, ever judged him. You were the best thing to happen to him. y/n y/l/n, or preferably when finally proposed (if you know his last name, please put it into interactive fics) y/n d/l/n. (Dabis last name)
You got up and felt your feet get caught on the rug but before you could hit the floor, Dabi’s arms wrapped around you.
You laughed as you steadied yourself, “my hero, ”
He froze, “your hero?”
“Yeah, that's what I said, ” you responded.
“A hero, ” he spat, “are you fucking kidding?”
“No Dabi that's not what I-” you started.
“Shut the fuck up y/n, I'm not your fucking ‘hero,’” he sneered, “im the greatest fucking villain of all time. That man child is a joke, ”
(ouch 😐)
“No please Dabi just listen, ” you said.
“No, you listen, y/n. I can't be your fucking hero. I fucking kill people. That's my life youre just a delusional little girl who wants someone to save her. That's. Not. Me, ” he said.
“Please baby I just, ” you tried.
His fist hit the wall, and his other knocked over a vase as it shattered, “I told you to listen! I'm not here to save you. I could burn this whole fucking house to the ground with you in it if I wanted to. You shouldn't be around me y/n. I can't do anything right I'll just hurt you I can't keep you safe, ” he started to unravel.
“I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone; I just wanted to be a hero. I just wanted to help. But I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't,” he broke, “please, please, I didn't mean it I just I love you, and I can't lose you. I'm sorry ill get you a new vase; I'll cook your favorite food. We can get that dumb cat you saw in the store anything y/n. I wanted to be a hero y/n I wanted to go to that dumb school and help people, but I can't. It's all ruined, ruined ruined ruined, ” he started to sob, sliding down to the floor.
“I just want it to stop. Please make it stop y/n it hurts everything hurts, ” he ran his hands over the burns and picked at the staples.
“Baby no, don't pick at them, ” you said pulling his hands away.
Was he an asshole? Yeah, yeah, he was. But he always had to get angry before he got sad. He was never taught how to express it. That wasn't any excuse, but he was never violent, and he always always regretted it. So you sat next to him, letting him sob and sob into your chest.
“Please let me make it up to you, ” Dabi begged, leaving sloppy kisses up and down your neck, “please I'm so sorry, let me make it all better y/n let me make you feel good, baby, look just stay here let me make it special, ” he said running upstairs.
Ten minutes later, he picked you up, carrying you up the stairs. He set you down, and you looked around. The room smelled like roses and it was warm from the candles that illuminated the room.
“Dabi, ” you whispered, “this, this is perfect, ”
You turned to him as he pulled his shirt over his head, giving you access to his chest and stomach. You ran your hands up and down his chest rubbing over his nipple gently. He groaned.
“No baby, lemme take care of you, ” he said, “I've got wine and everything; let's make a night out of it yeah?”
You grinned, “mmm yeah, red?”
“You know I hate white wine y/n, ” he said, “I want to ask you while youre sober, are you okay with all of this?”
“Yes, ” you kissed him and mumbled against his lips, “I'm very sure, ”
He opened the bottle, “open up, baby girl, ”
You opened your mouth and he held your chin, pouring the wine into your mouth.
“There we go, ” he said, taking a couple of swigs.
You pulled him to the bed, smiling. You drank some more wine together, getting needier.
“Please please please, ” you begged, “please I need it,”
He kissed you, his tongue entering your mouth. It tangled with yours, exploring your mouth as his pants got tighter. Your hands gripped his hair. You pulled harshly, causing him to groan. He pulled you into his lap, moving your crotch over his clothed erection. He moaned into your mouth as he moved your hips. He wasn't the only one moaning as his hands traveled up your shirt.
He groped your tits through your bra, still frantically moving against you. He moved to your back, rubbing slow circles onto it. His fingers were rough and calloused but so gentle, letting his nails graze your back from time to time, making you shiver. They moved up your back until they reached your bra, trying to take it off.
He pulled away, “this stupid fucking thing, can you turn around?”
You turned, “you want to get my shirt while youre at it?”
“Oh I would love to take off your shirt, ” he smirked.
His hands and the soft fabric brushed your stomach as Dabi lifted your shirt. Next, your chest was set free as your bra fell on the bed. Immediately his hands were on you, pinching and rubbing your nipples, still grinding against you. Your moans mixed, nearly harmonizing, and you were only half-naked. He helped you out of your pants, rubbing your clit through your panties.
You moaned, ”n-not fair you don't even have your pants off, ”
He chuckled, “you want my pants off?”
You nodded, reaching for the zipper. He stopped your hand, moving to stand in front of you, pulling his pants down and stepping out of them. You grabbed his bulge through his boxers, causing him to hiss. You could feel it throbbing and decided to show mercy by getting rid of his underwear. It bobbed briefly touching his stomach. You couldn't help but stare, the head was an angry red with precum oozing out of it.
“Are you fucking drooling?” he laughed.
“N-no, ” you said, still staring.
He moved closer, the tip nudging your lips. You opened them enough to wrap around the head and suck gently. You let your tongue press against the tip, licking up and down slowly. He moaned shamelessly.
“No, no, lemme do it, baby f-fuck, ” he groaned as you pulled away.
He laid you down on your back. He got on top of you.
Pressing his forehead to yours, he whispered, “I love you, ” before easing the first part of himself into you.
“I love you too- f-fuck Dabi, oh my god, ” you moaned, throwing your head back.
He grabbed your chin to make you look him in the eyes as he bottomed out inside of you. Your nails dug into his sides as you moaned for him to ‘just please fucking move Dabi.’ and move he did, thrusting in and out of you slowly. He left your faces a centimeter apart, foreheads still pressed together. He let you feel all of him; his piercing dragged over your soft walls, right over that perfect spot. Your back arched and closed the nonexistent space between you.
He sped up, unable to control himself. Your nails raked over his back as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, ” he mumbled into your neck.
His thrust became sloppier as the pleasure built up inside of you. It filled you up until it burst, coaxing something close to a scream from you that Dabi muffled with his lips on yours. He left you panting and flushed. Begging him to slow down, but he was too busy chasing his own high as you chanted his name religiously. He cried out as his hips snapped against yours giving you so much pleasure it was nearly painful.
He began to make your favorite sounds. Whimpering and high-pitched whines escaped him. He was so sweet and needy when he was right on the edge, throwing his head back only to press it to yours again. He began to babble about how good it is, so wet, hot, tight, perfect for his cock. He came with a scream like moan as you felt hot liquid fill you. He was left panting and thrusting until he began to soften.
“Apology accepted, ” you whispered.
He chuckled, “thanks babe,”
You pulled him in for a kiss. After you pulled away, he pulled you to his chest. His arms were wrapped around you, covering everything the blanket couldn't, keeping you warm and protected. Dabi kissed your forehead and raked his fingers through your hair scratching your scalp with his nails. You hummed softly, running your fingers over his chest and stomach.
“Night y/n, I love you,”
You smiled and whispered, “i love you too Dabs, ”
123 notes · View notes
dubsxreader · 3 years
Text
worship the king //.o1 // shigaraki tomura x female!reader
Tumblr media
summary: after the soul crushing realization that you're not meant to be the Hero you've spent your life training to be, you hunt down the most indiscriminate killer you know: Dabi. his man-child of a leader being there only makes the task easier, right? too bad Shigaraki has a knack for seeing things in others they don't see themselves. wc: 3,312 playlist: here!
rated: M for dark and mature themes; future lewd tw: suicidal ideation (seriously don't read if you're in a bad mindset this probs won't help), depression, toxic thoughts, manipulation, the start of a v dependent, idolizing relationship ie "worship" in all definitions of the word haha. Shigs taking advantage of a mentally vulnerable hero basically; dead dove do not eat for that reason.
a/n: this is something I wrote almost year ago now, when I first fell head over heels for Shigs and really felt like bnha was saving me from insanity haha. I have 15 pages of notes for this fic, but for now, for the King's birthday, this is my thank you to him and a year of loving Shigaraki Tomura <3 also to the xreader community for being my gateway into every fandom that takes over my life haha. will be posted to ao3 later
You stand on a cracked, littered rooftop, sullenly looking over the calamity you figured would be destroying the lives of every day, happily unaware citizens tonight. A slight sigh of relief leaves your chewed-to-hell lips, hidden to your own addled mind but glaringly apparent to any of your fellow heroes who’d commented on your state of mind the past few months.
You appreciated their care, you really did—for all the surface level care it could give, that is. It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t understand. They were simply more Heroic than you, official capital and all. More driven, stronger, faster… But you’ve been doing the absolute best you can, and you were sure of that. Days–weeks months?–of harshly honest self speculation assured you of your failures and of the fact that, simply put, you weren’t cut out for shouldering multitudes of lives every time you stepped out your door. Heroism didn’t just end when you took off your costume; no, it was an ideology that should be ingrained into the soul of the costume wearer, and you’d come to the jarring conclusion that, after all your special training, you just weren’t up to snuff.
You couldn’t even save yourself from your own demons. How the hell were you supposed to save those more deserving of life if you couldn’t cope with your own shit?
A small, condescending snort leaves your nostrils as you observe the blue flames engulfing the area below you. Fucking worthless. What was the point, then? Hours of support Hero's work on your items, costume—wasted. The countless words of love and support from friends and family. Ha. Your eyes track the small movements of the current chaos’ perpetrators with a keenness you've found twisted comfort in recently. A familiar, all encompassing fixation gears up that brings you out of the cloud of self-doubt, hate, and deprecation that was so, so wrong to feel as a Pro-Hero in today’s society. In this bubble there's a solution, so it's okay. You let out a numbing breath.
Maybe you could give the Villains +1 morality in the eyes of whatever twisted being rested on their laurels, idly watching as you drive yourself insane.
A swift gust of wind knocks the empty cans and bottles from their peaceful resting places as you leave your perch, descending into the empty alley below to begin your last stand against yourself. Resolute and heavy steps echo in the widened, deserted streets of the city you vowed to protect—a small, still aware part of you thankful it’s so late at night that most would be sleeping. Your targets (saviors?) usually moved when they would make the most social impact, but you’d been tracking a certain member that didn’t seem to adhere to their strict schedule.
Whoever they were behind the obvious moniker, they seemed to kill liberally. It should be easy. You take a numbing breath.
The stench of burning flesh and ash is suddenly all too pungent, assaulting your senses enough to kick your mind into another, more logical plane and question how stupid you’re being. How disappointed everyone who knew you would be. Izuku and Hitoshi, especially, had been trying their hardest to devote extra time to you recently, you knew that—fuck, how selfish were you to bring their attention away from a goal they’d fought so hard to achieve?
The flames are smoldering char on concrete when you arrive at the end of another alleyway, just as dirty as the one you’d come from… But the incineration just seemed to have cleansed the way of its trash. You nearly sigh again in morbid relief when you see two men still standing there in the aftermath. You can see from behind that the man you’ve been tracking, Dabi, still has his left arm extended, as if relishing the memory of his flames destroying the ones he deemed unworthy.
Hands in your hero costume’s pockets, you steel yourself in your usual Hero emotions: indignation, conviction, disgust at the idea of them feeling they had a right to do anything going against the grain of the society you were indoctrinated into. You clear your throat with the last of your practiced confidence, bringing the sights of the two Villains to your own frame shadowed by the bright street lamp at your back.
“You two aren’t planning on getting away with this, are you?”
Your simple, deadpan drawl has both men scoffing to themselves and sharing a look of exasperation and annoyance. They clearly want nothing more than to be done with whatever the hell they were doing; your gaze sharpens in acknowledgment while their own take note of your hero costume. This is it. This is really it. You’ve done it. Is it really what you want?
Your eyes ice over, hardening to protect your vulnerabilities when they meet those of the second man’s own carmine flecks, so unflinching and so, so bored from behind his trademark hand.
Yeah. This is it.
Resignation freezing the rest of your visage and nothing left to say, you dash forward with simple physical speed, locking onto the Villain you recognize as the leader of the League of Villains himself. Sure, Dabi was a proven relentless killer, but you figure if you go after the leader himself there would be even less hesitation or time to think on either side. They were both reportedly unflinching, ruthless, uncaring and absolutely evil, but Shigaraki’s devilishness was practically beaten into you at this point. He was the obvious candidate, the oddness of his presence meaningless yet welcome at this point.
Your eyes never leave his as you take those last three lunging leaps, your arm cocked back in a hopeful show of some impressive power you might possess, in a display grand enough to paint yourself as a threat if not at the very least an annoyance.
Blue flames lick at the back of your costume. You’d somehow been faster than Dabi’s flames, which made no sense at all—you weren’t fast in any capacity if you were to judge yourself. It must’ve been a misfire. Lucky you’ve targeted the faster acting Villain.
Something distinctly odd flashes in his previously disinterested eye as you rush him, your Quirk barely powered yet still reflecting in his observation as you aim for the mask. Your own, in contradictory spite, slows as your mind races, brushing the hand enough to feel the inexplicitly soft and leathery texture, knocking it clean off the face of the man you’d targeted. Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it's the anticipation of the end, but you don’t feel anything near what you thought you’d feel when his living hand grazes your outstretched arm. If anything, it feels like an angry wasp had come at your elbow in some sort of misguided revenge attempt. Bearable.
Fucking livable.
You skid to a shaky stop feet behind them, your glare going to the small hole in your costume’s arm where he’d made the briefest of contact. The skin had only begun to crack and decay from a central point; nothing near the scale and intensity you’d been warned about by your superiors and peers. What the fuck gives?
A desperate rage threatens to erupt at the lack of damage. You feel cheated. Your eyes shift from the minimal damage to the apprehensive yet notably curious eyes of your chosen euthanasist. Was he just not taking you seriously? You didn’t blame him, but…
“I thought the League was the best of the best?” The sting in your arm is mockingly there and you scoff, barely hiding your indignation at his unfulfillment of the role you’d forced upon him. You take it and use it to fuel the crumbling foundation of your resolve, ashing it to the ground yourself and focus on the slightly slumped figure topped with white-blue hair.
His eyes are now magnetized and piercing, never wavering from your own, adding to your rage and confusion. Just what is he getting at, looking straight at you in the fucked up state you’re in and just–just fucking seeing–?! You aren’t looking for pity, fuck all if it's from the person you’ve deemed would have the balls you didn’t to end this shitty nightmare you live in. With a primal, anguished and utterly guttural scream you dash forward once more towards Shigaraki Tomura, hand erupting in a more accurate show of your true power.
Once again, he simply guides your attack away from him into empty space, this time with a deft shove of his index finger. Silent and calculating. You stumble on your feet as you land, ignoring the insulting sting, and turn to face them at a pace you know isn’t up to Hero standards but unable to even fake it anymore. Your eyes, though.
They fucking call to him.
How could he dust you? A Pro-Hero, coming at him alone, a deadly ally at his side, with what he knew from his research to be nowhere near their quirk’s power and potential?
Nevermind the look in your eyes he’d recognized immediately—this Hero was asking to be killed. Cracked lips twitch to grin at the situation. His mind works at full throttle to balance the possibilities.
“Heh…” The small breath leaves him, a smirk winning out and pulling at already taught skin, “You’re looking to die, aren’t you, Hero?”
Your brows furrow in… Fuck, you can’t identify your feelings at this point–they shouldn’t matter–they’d become obsolete the moment you took a swing at the supposedly impulsive and irrational Villain in charge. All you can feel is the overwhelming sense of weight, of pressure, of absolute and total CHAOS destroying any semblance of unity you’d pulled together to end this.
“What the fuck does that matter to you, Villain?!” Your glare is full of a rawness you can’t recognize, let alone mask, “Fucking fight me or die!”
His smirk, now fully on display, stretches to the smuggest of smiles as he takes his experimental first steps forward, casually retrieving the hit hand and placing it safely in his trench coat pocket. You weren’t immediately attacking him—hell, you weren’t even defending yourself! You’d only be more obvious if you’d delivered yourself to his doorstep tied in a bright, blood-red ribbon labeled “do what you want, I don’t care anymore!” It made his blood simmer, his skin itch in excitement at all the optional routes opened up before him.
Quickly, too quickly to deploy your defense {even if you wanted to}, he’s in your face and encircling your neck in a four fingered grasp. Your eyes vaguely mark Dabi looking on with a detached interest, and you can’t help but mirror his lack of understanding—your emotions and thoughts unfortunately too far past controllable to be hidden behind the usual Heroics.
“You could still serve a purpose, you know.”
Narrowed (e/c) eyes meet piercing, analytical rubies set to freeze and crumble enemies. You have no answer to that, none at all—if you hadn’t come across another anything while you’d been searching in earnest, how could it be tossed into your lap from the hands of a Villain? Your clear disbelief doesn’t deter him in the slightest. It only gives him the subtle signals he needs to ensure a dedicated new member of his team. This situation could only go well for him and the League, if he plays it right, and he’s thankful Dabi knows when to shut the hell up and take the back seat when he truly should.
He’s never seen Shigaraki’s version of recruitment before. After Dabi's climate destroying display, he could use a lesson.
On the edge though this Hero is, the line is thin and the touch needed is delicate and calculated.
“You can make a real difference in this rotten world,” Shigaraki slowly lowers his defensive arm and loosens his grip on your neck, conveying his intentions to calm you. He notices this strikes an especially sore nerve that you’re too unhinged to recognize. You’re taken over by your emotions, unable to distinguish that you’ve offered your weaknesses to your enemy on a silver platter. Disgusted rage he’s now certain is self-focused meets him, only bringing him a step closer to your frozen and highly panicked figure. His free fingers fidgets on the clammy skin of your neck, tapping a pattern across your throbbing pulse, expectant and soft while the other stays loosely, carefully, against your clavicle.
It's constant.
It's… calming?
No, it's fucking overwhelming and uncomfortable and— As if your body’s acting on the last vestiges of your studies, you struggle in his grasp and pull your dominate arm back, channeling all your sadness and panic you’d been unable to expel into the attack you hoped would just fucking end this fucking end this it’s done—
Another four fingered grip captures your wrist, directing your power away from anything important and only ruffling Dabi’s clothes as he watches on. You choke on a cry, near your mask’s end with Shigaraki’s unexpected patience. You’d been told this was nothing more than a spoiled, raging, calloused young man entirely unable to connect with any feelings other than his own selfish need to destroy all Heroes he came in contact with. The only conclusion your racing mind can come to is that he doesn’t even view you as a Hero worth destroying. Thick and torrid tears rush from your eyes, betraying your need to be recognized and being denied that luxury in your final moments.
“I can’t even get what I need from you fuckfaces—!” Your cry rings out, eyes shutting tightly, shaking with the force of your emotions finally finding the breaking point they need to crash through into the real world, “What the fuck can I do to make a fucking difference?!”
Shigaraki pauses to assess your sobbing. You’ve all but folded into yourself; you would’ve disintegrated against his hold on your neck if he hadn’t been paying attention. No… he sees you. He sees you. His fingered grip on your neck slides up to force your head to follow, meeting his sure gaze. You’re lost. You’re anxiously grasping at anything you can to stop the burning, itching need to destroy your own mind… And he gets that. He knows what it took to hook him tightly into his own mindset. He knows of seeing a seemingly impossible goal set before him, of feeling unworthy and needing to prove himself to his peers and himself. If anyone could reshape you... it would be him. If anyone were to reshape you... it should be him.
“It isn’t fair, is it…?” He starts slowly, voice dripping with cooing understanding, gauging your expressions and body, “You work so hard to be what others want you to be… And never feel enough, even when you put your all into it.” Your whole being shudders at his words, breaking down and melting into the pressure of your expectations for yourself. You choke on another messy sob, tears blinding you, snot nearly reaching your lips, a trail of drool unknowingly slipping from the corner of your grimacing lips.
“We’d never expect more than you can give, you know,” He all but whispers into your ear, his words echoing with staying power. You miss the tiniest bit of excitement he lets slip into his tone at the thought of corrupting a fairly strong Hero to his cause with mere psychological one-upmanship. The power over your entire existence is an intoxicating prize and he’s not about to let go of it if he can help it.
A sad cross between a whimper and a cry escapes you as you crumble even more into a hold you’d only come to for annihilation. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why weren’t you dead? You’d wanted to die, needed to just stop everything and just—just STOP, finally, just stop. He was a hardened criminal with no need for heroes, what the hell kind of use did he see in you? You still the tiniest bit. You just need a use, a tangible use, is that what you’ve been missing? A clear direction set before you by an overwhelmingly liberating, intelligent, capable force… Could he see it through all the absolute shit you covered yourself in?
A tentative spark lights the furthest parts of you as you finally meet his confident and knowing gaze. Fuck if you don’t feel seen for the first time in your life, finally seen and accepted for the absolute mess you see yourself as. The conflicting, philosophical doubts you’ve had about Heroism, and your own heroics in the existential race you call a life, find a peaceful place in Shigaraki Tomura’s vision.
It's an alien calm, a powerful sedative on your mind, leading you to melt into his look—telling him all he needed to know and more. The grin he sports widens and his eyes shift to give a silent command to Dabi, still (surprisingly) observing quietly, before changing your life indefinitely, “Follow me, little hero. You'll never be lost again.”
A deep, swirling purple warp gate you’d only seen in footage appears at the entrance to the alleyway.
The loose grip on your neck finally leaves completely, giving you ample room to escape up and out across the rooftops. You’re frozen in your battling thoughts at the suddenly very real decision in front of you.
You knew you weren’t good enough to be a Hero. You’d been struggling with the core beliefs on what the word even meant, if the world you’d been taught was even so black and white. Did you even want to die or did you just need someone to come and give you a purpose, some great refocusing direction? Someone to swoop in, recognize and acknowledge your pain before wiping it away and giving you something definite to live for? You knew you couldn’t make it as a Hero. You were nothing in that world. But maybe you could make that nothing existence, doomed to the weaker, better…?
Eyes nearly blinded before blinking down more streams of tears, you sniffle and take a tentative step towards the man looming tall over you, an umbrella shielding you from a brightness you couldn’t stand to be seen in. You harshly wipe your falling tears to watch Dabi walk swiftly into the portal, an unlit cigarette of some sort dangling from his patterned lips. Shigaraki steps to it much slower. He stops before he reaches it, twisting subtly to look at you from over his shoulder. He shouldn’t have to say anything more for you to follow, if his assumptions are correct—
They are.
Your first steps are slow but pick up speed quickly, feet nearly throwing you into his right side, at the mouth of the portal to a place described by your thoughts as no return. His eyes widen in delight, a manic grin following as he places the fingers of his left hand onto your head in a semblance of comfort. More than he ever got. His right arm wraps confidently around your waist, absurdly consoling to your rapidly evolving morals and needs.
It allows you to let it all go, though. It tells you someone more capable, more prepared is there. That he sees you and is keeping you alive because you’re useful to him. You can’t seem to care why when the overwhelming realization that such a powerful man saw you as you were, truly were, and still found a profound use for you in a world you were dying in takes a strong hold. You’re practically weightless as he guides you into the inky blackness of his caretaker’s portal, mind clicking into place and recognizing the distinct choice you’re making with a calm acceptance of this development in your life.
You were a useless hero. Perhaps this is your chance to prove you could make a difference to someone as a villain.
---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----
a/n: thanks so much for reading!! :) hope you enjoyed~ happy birthday, Shigster! maann I wish he'd take me away ;w; drop of a hat, I'm gone lol. the ultimate escapism... yandere!Shigaraki! xD annyway, I hope you have a wonderful day~ <3
65 notes · View notes