#meaningless so why did i even bother trying and crying so much about everything i did

[gatitties]

Web of love

─Yandere!Jujutsu Kaisen x fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: your worst night followed by a wonderful day, are you slowly going crazy? Maybe, but you'll get out of here no matter what

─Warnings: blood, self-harm, anxiety attack, hallucinations, obsession, toxic behaviors, stalking, yandere stuff

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

The blank pages: Part One

YOU TRY to control your shaky breathing, no one would take away the poor quality of sleep you had at this point in your life, but having nightmares right now was the last straw that broke your patience.

You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your face was slightly wet because you needed to splash yourself to clear your thoughs, the cold water didn't help much anyway, you slapped your cheeks with moderate force hoping the feeling of mental numbness would go away, but again it didn't work.

"What the hell is wrong with me…?"

You touched your right cheek, slightly red from the previous blow, focusing your gaze on the reflection of the sink mirror, you were a complete disgust, never, not even in your worst period of exams, had you seen yourself so emaciated, the dark circles and bags under your eyes, the lack of color in your face, your frizzy hair, its lack or decrease, bloodshot eyes… you could continue to despise yourself while you stare at your reflection for hours, bringing out each of your flaws.

But there was one that bothered you beyond your appearance, your lack of emotions, your lack of thoughts, you refused to show anything other than a blank expression to those people who ruined your life, you refused to have to think complex things while they took care of everything, not being able to do anything on your own you began to stop complicating your life by thinking about solutions.

Who were you? What were your goals? Your tastes? When did your memories start to become blurry? When was the last time you really smiled? Were you real? Or just a corporeal desire of psychopaths eager to have something precious to protect? Since when was everything so gray, so monotonous? Did you still consider yourself a person with rights and freedom? When did you start accepting this?

"Hey… Hey!"

Focusing your lost vision again in the mirror, you weren't very surprised that you were hallucinating after having a brain as soft as baby food, it was you, maybe a couple of years younger who was speaking to you through the reflection, your mouth opened but no words came out as if you were a fish out of water.

"What's happening? Is this the future that awaits me? You're pathetic! Look at you… Where the hell is your stupid smile? You used to smile a lot before, why…? Why have I become a puppet?"

Your words mixed with a murmur, feeling how your heart squeezed painfully in your ribcage, your mind deciding to continue the macabre game of your existential crisis, replaying memories with your family and all the warm moments that kept you sane until now. You closed your eyes hoping that the hallucinations would disappear, but you only managed that instead of visuals they were audible, reproducing words of affection from your parents in a loop like torture, the breathing exercises you did before to calm yourself stopped working now, you bit your lip so hard that you ripped off some skin, not enough for you because you started running your nails down your arms, leaving red marks from the friction and force.

"You're better than this, what's all this whining about?! Get up and stop being a coward! You will only drag me into this meaningless future!"

"Shut up…"

"Are you even worth anything? You're so boring, I don't understand how those sorcerers want to protect you."

"Shut up."

"Are you going to cry to sleep like always? You are a disgrace, you are lucky, lucky that someone can love you so much, what would you do without them? They are much better than your own parents, accept it, accept it, they love you unconditionally! Even without knowing who you are or how you feel, even without knowing what your purposes are, they will love you! Accept your desti-"

"I said shut the fuck up! Silence!"

You shook your whole body, holding your head, you hit it a couple of times against the wall, so hard that even a couple of tiles fell off, a few drops of blood fell from your head, but you didn't care, the voice, your voice, it was gone, you swallowed your own poison, locking your inner, dark thoughts deep in your brain.

Your mind continued numb for a couple more minutes where all you could hear was a faint sound of static and a constant beeping, but it was more calming than having to listen to your own voice in that twisted way. Getting up once you calmed down a little, your reflection returned to normal, you splashed your face with cold water again, cleaning the blood on your head, nails and lip, taking one last look at your pitiful person, with your head still full of unknowns.

"Why is this happening to me?"

You rub your eyes tiredly, cleaning up the mess you had made, you decide to lie down on the cold bed once more, tucking yourself in and looking at the ceiling waiting for your body to magically disintegrate into ashes, too pretty to be real, when you realize the rays of light make your eyes hurt and sting, one more sleepless night, a new day awaits.

Faking and ignoring your nighttime crisis you get up to do your morning routine, being greeted by an overly cheerful Nobara as you passes through the dining room to look for some breakfast, you couldn't say the same for Megumi, who looked much more tense than normal, you didn't know where the others were but you didn't care much either, and Nobara and Megumi didn't say anything about your appearance, whether they noticed it or not, you're just glad they decided not to ask anything.

"You look like you've experienced the worst existential crisis of your life."

You spit out what you were drinking when you heard Maki just enter, from her appearance you could tell that she had gone out for a run early in the morning, Toge and Panda followed behind her, everything fell into a silence that was too uncomfortable for you because they stared at you carefully, completely ruining your efforts to hide your bad appearance.

"Just a bad dream…?"

You mumbled, avoiding everyone's gaze, Toge approached you, patting you on the head as if that would help you, although it was the most comforting thing you felt this week, it didn't feel as forced as other interactions.

To your relief, everyone continued with their things, while you ignored what they were talking about and continued eating breakfast, their talk became louder than usual, you frowned at this, deciding to listen lightly to the conversation, you froze when you remembered what they were talking about, the Kyoto school exchange, even though you didn't sign up for that stupid ceremony, as a student you had to, at the very least, be present, but you knew that a large concentration of sorcerers would only cause you more problems than solutions.

You knew why Megumi seemed so tense when the other students showed up, they didn't seem to have a very friendly relationship, they all seemed quite focused on the rivalry between high schools, which made you happy since the focus of attention wasn't on you, but rather in Itadori since he seemed to be targeted by the Kyoto school just for being Sukuna's vessel. The bad thing was that you had to stay in the teachers' room, with Gojo and a couple of other guys, the good thing was that you fell in love, Utahime was your spirit animal, definitely someone to admire just for her hatred of Gojo.

"So, why don't you want to compete? I can tell that you have quite a bit of accumulated cursed energy."

"Aww, meeting my favorite student? Well that's a delicate topic she doesn't-"

"I'm not talking to you, shut up."

You smiled internally when you saw Gojo's kicked dog expression, who didn't even let you talk to Utahime, she looked at you again, completely ignoring the albino's presence, it was, the first time since you arrived here that you felt like you were having a normal conversation with someone outside your life, someone disinterested in your protection, it was the most real interaction you had since then and it had to be ruined, not by Gojo, not by any student… curses, a planned attack, a lot of chaos was caused that you barely understood.

"Don't fight and don't try anything weird, although I'll know anyway, stay safe!"

It was the last thing Gojo said to you before leaving with the others to see what was happening outside, you couldn't have cared less about his words, and although locking you in your room was the main idea, your wires got crossed with your little sanity, if everyone was distracted by a greater evil you could use that to your advantage.

Since both sorcerers and curses were completely absorbed in their stupid fight, you used that to go outside, first it was a couple of meters, you didn't notice anyone, the capsule didn't stop you from leaving, so you walked further away, elated by your minimal achievement, you started running as fast as you could, reaching the busy streets of the city, smart enough not to go near the places Nanami frequented.

It had been a long time since your heart had been beating like this, so wild that you thought it might come out of your throat, you coughed for air once you stopped in a park, collapsing on the ground, you lied there, you laughed like a crazy person, some tears escaping of your eyes as you looked at the sky brighter than ever. You couldn't believe it, you were alone, with no one watching, you could feel all the positive emotions hitting you, there were so many sensations that you didn't know how to feel, but definitely much more relieved.

The smile on your face was indelible, you were happy, the world at this moment was painted in much more vibrant tones, the palette stopped being a constant tone of gray, you smiled at children, the elderly, you caressed animals, you bought a few flowers and then randomly give them to some people, completely in a bubble of happiness.

Although the bubble had to burst at some point, whether due to your subconscious or the pass of time, you knew that your sudden disappearance would only cause more of a stir, you wish you were left for dead, but you know those sons of bitches wouldn't have that in mind unless they saw your death with their own eyes or found your inert body.

Using your last moments of happiness, you decided to treat yourself to some of your favorite sweets, saying goodbye to the clerk who served you with one of your best smiles, you took the long way to the jujutsu high school, hoping to delay your reunion with your "loved ones" as long as possible.

"Stop there! Aren't you the missing girl? You've given us an incredible headache, come on, I'll take you back."

Someone you hadn't bothered to meet grabbed your wrist, pulling you without even waiting for you to react, analyzing her appearance, she was quite similar to Maki, maybe a family member.

"What a pity, sorry for the headache, but can you let me go? I know the way Maki number two."

At this moment the least you wanted was a confrontation, but your mood had not completely dropped, although now you were a little more upset than happy, your emotions overflowed, causing you to be a more sarcastic and sassy version of yourself.

Mai stopped instantly when she was called Maki number two, you had definitely found her weak spot, which turned into a passive-aggressive chat between the two of you, you would have been angry, but you couldn't be angry when you enjoyed the criticism you were giving each other, honestly it improved your day and you felt more human than before.

"Oh thank goodness you're fine! I thought those dirty curses had kidnapped you!"

Nobara didn't waste a second in hugging you as soon as she saw you, Itadori following her a second later, you assured them that you were okay not wanting everyone to crowd around you as the others also wanted to ask where you had been and why you disappeared when they were under stroke.

You drowned out the emotions you poured out during the day, swallowing everything, turning your expression blank as you felt Gojo's powerful gaze on you, everything calmed down for the next few minutes, the two schools finished the meeting and the Kyoto students left, before that you decided to exchange phones with Utahime.

Once you got rid of your companions, you locked in your room, unlike many other nights, you threw yourself on the bed, grabbing a cushion and screaming as if you were one of those teenagers in love in those saccharine series, you moved your legs in the air by pressing the cushion tighter between your arms. Changing your posture, you looked up at the ceiling just like the night before, with the big difference that now you couldn't contain your emotions, you giggled, biting your lip lightly, not noticing the wound you got earlier.

You saw it, you saw light at the end of the tunnel, ─not that way of course─, you saw how a door opened before your eyes, a new opportunity to free yourself from the chains that kept you captive with all these psychopaths, experience freedom after so much time made you delirious, made you imagine that you could get rid of them, that they would leave you alone, even if it was risky, your only option was to escape, run away from everything and everyone without thinking twice, without thinking about what can happen in the future, you would give everything to re-experience what you felt today when you ran away.

You sighed dreamily as you remembered the feeling of freedom, closing your eyes, not worrying about whether you were going to be able to fall asleep today or have another boring game of chess, oblivious to the blue eyes that watched from your window.

"It seems like someone is in her rebellious stage, maybe she need some restrictions…"

He muttered, unhappy with your disobedience but excited to see you happy, he didn't think he would see it so soon, your smile was beautiful just the way it was and you decided to hide it like that for them? They were only worried about you, why did you have to keep all that to yourself? They wanted to be part of your happiness, couldn't you understand it? Well, they will make you understand it no matter what.

Once he made sure that your breathing was stable, he entered your room, kissed your forehead like every night, only this time he sat next to you, caressing your head slowly, observing how, even while asleep, your silly smile was still painted on your face, the flash of his phone made you frown slightly, but you didn't wake up.

"I hope you rest well today, I'm sorry for not helping you the night before, but if I had come in you would hate me more, wouldn't you?"

He said to himself, closing the door slowly, giving you one last look before leaving, he sent the photo to the group chat he had with his students, reviewing the last photos where any of the four were able to capture something more emotion than indifference. Just like you, the small display of emotions only opened another door for them, that small display of freedom for you and emotions for them, was simply another trigger for your problems, after all, the more you move, the more you get tangled in the web.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #reader insert #fem reader #x reader #web of love #yandere platonic jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x fem reader #jujutsu kaisen x platonic reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #platonic reader #platonic yandere #platonic relationship #jjk x platonic reader #jjk x fem reader #jjk x reader

[greg-montgomery]

Lonely

Aaron Hotchner x Gn!Reader

Summary: Just a little hurt/comfort fic. It's one of those days where nothing feels okay, but to your surprise, your boss Aaron Hotchner is there to comfort you.

Soft!Hotch my beloved <333

TW: The reader talks about struggling with their mental health.

Words: 1.1 k

It was only you who was left at the office. You thought that occupying your mind with some boring paperwork would help you distract yourself from the painful feeling on your chest. It was one of those days where something as simple as a smile was impossible to fake. It was one of those days where a headache was creeping up by you forcing your tears not to spill all day.

If someone were to ask you why you were feeling that way, you would have an extremely hard time to explain. You couldn’t even explain it to yourself. You were just feeling sad. And feeling sad made you feel lonely.

The noise of a door closing made you drop your pen and turn your head to that direction. Yes, everyone else had left, but the word ‘everyone’ did not include your boss. Ever. At least for you.

 “Y/N, what are you still doing here? It’s almost eleven,” he asked, approaching your desk. Looking up at him you immediately recognized concern in his expression.

“I thought I could just finish this all up tonight. You know, so I don’t have it on my mind all week.” You tried to sound casual, but you were pretty certain he was already not buying it.

“I don’t want you to overwork yourself. Especially for something as meaningless as paperwork. You already go through enough when we have a case.”

You sighed, figuring there was no reason to fight him on this. If you agreed he would just drop it. “You’re right.”

You started collecting your things to put them in your bag, expecting Aaron to wish you goodnight and leave. Instead you felt him staring at you in silence.

Bringing your bag to your lap, after securing all your personal things in it, you turned to the side ready to get up. You hadn’t realized that he had moved closer though - to the point where if you stood up, your face would bump into his chest. That’s why you decided to stay seated.

You looked up at him and took a deep breath, trying to calm your heartbeat that was going crazy, because he was completely towering over you.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Is everything okay?” There it was again. That same expression of concern. You hated the way he could see right through you. Aaron was known for being able to read people – he was good at his job and you admired him for it – but it was never fun to be on the receiving end of his talent. It made you feel bare and vulnerable.

“Yes, everything’s good.”

He slowly squatted down so he could be at the same level as you. Your height difference hadn’t allowed your faces to be this close to each other before. Looking into his eyes from this new angle felt different.

“Listen,” he started. “I can understand why I would not be the first person you’d choose to talk to about a personal issue. I know I’m much older than you and might act a little like a drill sergeant sometimes, but I’m always here if you need to talk. I would love to help. About whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

You smiled sadly at him because, deep down, if you could choose one person in the world to open your heart to it would be him. But how could you randomly start talking about your feelings to your boss of all people? How does one get the chance to do so?

Except now you had the perfect chance. He was offering it to you.

“I don’t think I’m gonna make any sense, Hotch,” you answered; your voice small and ready to break.

“You don’t have to. This isn’t an exam, you know. You can just tell me how you feel. No need to explain.”

Tears started to blur your vision at his words. Your feelings for him got a hundred times more intense than they were before.

“I’m lonely,” you broke, crying properly now. “I’m so lonely.”

His hand reached out to take yours and his thumb started to move in a soothing motion. It helped.

“And I’m not saying I’m alone,” you continued. “I have my family, my friends, our team... I know I have people in my life who care for me, I really do. And I recognize how ungrateful I sound for saying that it’s not enough. But it’s not. I’m still lonely. And I’m still sad. And I don’t know why.”

“Sweetheart…” he whispered, his free hand cupping your cheek so he could wipe away the tears.

“I’m so tired of thinking I’m okay and then feeling awful again. It never ends,” you sobbed, leaning into his touch without really thinking about it. “I just feel so helpless when it gets bad. Like nothing can help.”

As soon as you finished your sentence he pulled you into his arms. The fingers of his one hand got lost between your hair, while his other hand was rubbing circles on your back. “Maybe this can help,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

You completely melted in his embrace. Your sobs got louder and your body was shaking, but it felt like release.

“Hotch,” you cried, “I just wanna be okay.”

“You will be, I promise.”

You pushed away, just enough so you could look at his face again. His eyes were red and your heart clenched at the thought of him caring for you enough to be this moved by your sadness.

His palms were cupping your cheeks again and his handsome smile made its appearance, looking sweeter than ever.

“Thank you,” you smiled back. It was through tears, but it was the only genuine smile you had given anyone all day.

“Of course,” he replied, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. “And now…” He dragged out the sentence, while standing up.

You missed his touch already. You didn’t want him to leave you alone. But you prepared yourself for his next words. He probably had to get home to Jack, you thought.

“How about we go get some ice cream?” he asked instead.

Your eyes lit up like a kid which made him laugh.

“I know a place that’s open all night. Let me drive us there,” he said offering his hand, and you took it without a second thought.

“I’d love that.”

You started walking towards the elevator, holding hands.

“Nothing like some ice cream after a good cry, right?” he joked and you giggled.

His hand dropped yours, only for his arm to wrap itself around your neck, pulling you close to his chest.

Maybe you could learn to love the way Aaron could see right through you. It made you feel cared for and understood.

#aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds fic #hiding in the tags so i can be insane here hehe #not me writing this when i should be studying 💀 #but i'm so sad today lmao #for what? that's a secret my brain will never tell #i just feel really lonely and sad and thought i could use my sweet man for comfort #and thought i'd share in case anyone needs some comfort too #maybe it's because i'm on my period 😔 #anyway if anyone's reading this i hope you enjoyed the fic #it's provided by my mental illness <3 #hotch 🪐

[hazbinned]

@angie-long-legs - FOUR DAYS POST-EXORCISM.

'CONGRATS, ANGEL!'

That's what all the banners said. And the balloons. And the little silver foil sign that stuck out of the cake at a lopsided angle. The streamers didn't say anything, but they were pink and black and white and gold, just like the rest of the decorations that cluttered the parlor.

They had polka-dots. So did the balloons.

Just like Angel.

Most of the residents were in the other room, trying to prep the food and figure out how to get the buffet table assembled. Everything smelled lovely. There was even soft, upbeat, poppy music coming from their general vicinity, but it was muffled by the presence of the walls, and so were their voices.

Angel Dust was on the sofa, watching TV. It seemed like he hadn't moved from the spot for days, although he must have.

Vox was tasked with putting up the streamers.

What a wasteful thing, streamers; rolls upon rolls of thinly-cut, brightly colored paper, created with the sole purpose of being strung across the ceiling (for a few days at best), and then torn down and tossed in the garbage.

Rinse and repeat, per every celebration!

Why, Vox wondered, should anyone have to go through the trouble of climbing so high and risking injury... just to take it all down when everything was said and done? Nobody looked at streamers when partying, after all. They didn't look at balloons, either. Nor did they pay attention to the little silver foil sign that stuck out of the cake at a lopsided angle...

Those things were all just objects. Meaningless, worthless objects— not even reusable! What mattered most about parties were the people who attended, and the memories they shared!

Vox came to stand behind the sofa, empty red eyes flicking twice over the outdated television that Angel seemed so glued to. He glanced down at the cardboard box of decorations that he held close to his chest, and then up at the back of Angel's fluffy head, and again at the TV.

Then, he turned his back to it all, and started to sift through the various items. Charlie had said she wanted a balanced mix of pink, black, and white- alternating.

A simple instruction to follow. Vox could start on this end of the room with the pink, and just keep switching them out until he hit the opposite side.

His thoughts were cut short by the spike in volume of the TV-- a commercial break!

"'Ey, you! Yeah, YOU! Bloke with the crummy haircut!" "Me?" "What'd I just say? ... All alone, too. That chick just rejected you, didn't she? You don't 'ave much game, you poor thing!"

It was a woman with a thick British accent and some... generic-sounding guy, but Vox wasn't entirely zeroed in on the script and hadn't bothered to look up. The woman sounded familiar enough, though. Hell, the entire thing sounded familiar. Almost like Vox knew it by the back of his hand.

His mind was still a bit spacy, so he omitted pieces of the ad here and there, tiredly breaking open the plastic seal around the pink streamers as he continued listening.

"Wow, I'm cured! Now I'm getting every lady I want, and I didn't even have to shower!" "And the men, too!" "Thanks, Velvette!" "Eh, no biggie. But don't forget to thank Valentino. HE'S the secret ingredient!" A new voice entered the scene. "... ¡Ay! Come onnnnnnn, now it's not a SECRET anymore!"

Vox stopped dead at the sound of Val's whining, and looked up, sparks flying.

His eyes, jolting round his head, snapped onto the screen.

"Love Potion by Velvette!" Vel and Val giggled in unison.

That could make a grown man cry.

Vox dropped the container of supplies and vaulted over the couch, landing on the cushion beside Angel so heavily that he might have launched the spider into the air.

"Turn the fucking TV off. This show is shit and all the ads are, too." He grappled the remote out of Angel's unsuspecting hands and then began flipping through the stations at such a breakneck speed that the poor thing's speakers started getting all garbled. The entire time, he wore the most furious grin fathomable. "Everything on here is garbage. Trash. Hate it all. It rots your mind. I'm sooo SICK and TIRED of hearing this phony TV mediocrity while I'm trying to WORK..."

#angie-long-legs #♠️ : old pal / vox. #♠️ : hotel-evision / verse. #{ CRYING NOW. :) } #{ Had to link the song. }

[dia-souls]

Diabolik lovers Angel and Devil Story [ Chapter 13 ]

Chapter 13 : feel guilty

Loneliness must be meaningless for someone who has been alone all his life. But why does this loneliness bother him this time? Why does he feel guilty when he saw his lover cheating? What is this horrible feeling that he can't escape from and that makes his heart ache all the time.

Love was an empty and meaningless word for him. But why is he so eager for love today? The love that made him experience the pain of his childhood again. The pain that turned him into a cruel and hard-hearted devil.

Ruki has lost everything. He can never trust Yui again. But why does his heart still hurt from this incident? He sees Yui crying and writhing in pain. Usually, he should be happy to see Yui crying and in pain. But why does he feel guilty now seeing her crying and begging. Ruki can no longer trust. Not only Yui, but now he doesn't trust his own true feeling and fights with this feeling in his heart to destroy it. But Ruki doesn't know that love can never be destroyed.

_The Mukami brothers all sat in the living room and there is a deadly silence between them.

*Tick ​​tock* *tick tock*

Azusa: ...

Kou: ......

Yuma : ...

_The Mukami brothers look at their older brother in silence, who is busy reading a book and pretends to ignore them.

Ruki: Hmmm......

*Flip*

Yuma: Aaaahhhhhhh..... Enough Ruki. Don't pretend ya are ignoring us.

_Ruki lifts his head from the book and looks at Yuma with a cold look.

Ruki: What's wrong with you, Yuma? What is your problem with me reading my book?

Yuma: I have no problem with ya reading your book. We just want a clear answer.

Ruki: What answer do you want?

Azusa: That's enough....... Ruki-kun.....please...don't show....... yourself so carefree.

Kou: That's right, Ruki. Don't try so hard to pretend you don't care.

Ruki: I don't know at all what are you three are talking about ?

Yuma: Ya know what we mean. What did ya do to Yui? Why did ya imprison her in dungeon and do not even give her food or water? Ya forgot that she is human and needs food.

Kou: Ruki-kun, if you punish her more than this, M-Neko-chan might die.

Ruki: I don't care if she dies.

Kou: .....!

Yuma: Hahaha... ya are not serious.

_Ruki looks at Yuma with a cold look.

Ruki: Yes I'm really serious.

Yuma: .......!

Azusa: Ruki-kun, why...... did you...... change so much?

Ruki: I haven't changed at all. That's what a livestock deserves. She should be treated in this way so that she understands her position. I don't want to talk about this anymore.

_Ruki closes his book and leaves the living room and his brothers and goes to his room.

Yuma: That's enough.

_Yuma gets up from the sofa and goes to the kitchen.

Kou: Yuma-kun, what do you want to do?

Yuma: I want to cook for that poor girl. She has not had water or food for almost three days. She will surely die like this.

Kou: But if Ruki finds out...

Azusa: Wait, Yuma. I will...... come to..... help you.

Kou: Huh? Are you guys listening to me at all. If Ruki finds out, he will punish us too.

Azusa: I don't care........ if I get..... punished. I can't....... let Eve die.

Yuma: Huh. I can't let that stupid girl die.

Kou: ..... You two are either stupid or very brave.

Yuma: Now anything. Will ya help us or not?

Kou: Do ​​I have another choice?

_The Mukami brothers go to the kitchen together to make food for Yui.

*TIMESKIP *

_Yui struggles through intense pain. Her wrists are tied with steel chains and her body is like a limp hanging from the wall.

*Cling Cling*

Yui: (I'm hungry... I can't see anything. It's cold and dark here. I think I'm going to die.)

_Yui makes her last efforts to call for help, but her throat is so sore from crying and screaming that she can't even speak.

Yui: (It hurts. Everything hurts. My body hurts. My legs and hands hurt. But most of all, my heart hurts. God, please help me... I'm dying.)

_Yui slowly closes her eyes thinking that she will take her last breaths. But when she hears the sound of the door opening, a light of hope lights up in her heart.

*Creeeeak *

_A man comes towards Yui with a tray of food and water, but Yui's eyes cannot see his face well.

Azusa: Eve, this is...... me. Can you..... hear me ?

Yui: (this sound......) Az.... Aazuu.... sa.... ku ..... cough..... cough

Azusa: Eve, please....... don't push...... yourself. You don't....... need to talk. Calm...... down .

Azusa puts down the tray of food and walks over to Yui to untie the chains. When he unchains Yui before she falls to the ground, he gently hugs Yui's body to make sure she doesn't get hurt.

Azusa gently puts Yui in his warm arms and caresses her head. He caresses Yui's whole wounded body and wipes Yui's tears from her face and kisses her cheek just like an angel. Just like a family member.

*smooch*

Azusa: Don't worry, Yui-san, I'm here....... by your side. I brought........ you food.

Yui: Tha .....nk you ....Azu.......sa ..... kun ...... cough.....cough.....

Azusa: Don't talk. This will.......hurt you...... more. Come, I will..... feed you.

_As Azusa holds Yui in his arms, he picks up the spoon and slowly feeds Yui. He does this very slowly to make sure Yui doesn't get hurt.

Azusa: Well done Eve... eat more... this food..... will help you....... feel better.

Yui: Why...... ?

Azusa: Don't worry. Ruki doesn't........ understand......... anything. Kou and Yuma....... and I prepared....... this lunch....... for you.

Yui: ......

Azusa: Eve, it doesn't matter........ what Ruki says. We won't........ let him..... hurt you any more, I promise.

Yui: ...wh....yyyy ...... ?

Azusa: Yui-san. You are....... now a member..... of our family. We all love...... you. We will not...... let Ruki continue...... his work.

Yui:......

Azusa: What happened....... that Ruki is...... so angry? You don't need...... to speak, just give.... me a sign.

Yui: Ri.....ko......cough.....

Azusa: Riko?

_Yui faints in Azusa's arms.

Azusa: Yui-san? Are you...... alright ? please no... you mustn't die...

_Azusa puts his ear to Yui's heart and listens to her heartbeat.

*Ba-dump・ba-dump・ba-dump*

Azusa: Aaaahhhhhhh. You are...... alive. You just.... passed out. I am sure...... you are in.... a lot of pain. I like pain, but..... this pain..... seems to upset you. I don't want...... you to be sad, Yui-san.

_Azusa hugs Yui and walks to a bed in the dungeon and places Yui on the bed. He throws a blanket over Yui that he brought with him in advance so that she doesn't get cold.

Azusa: We will help..... you, Yui-san. I promise.... you .

_Azusa kisses Yui's forehead.

*smooch*

Azusa: You are....... like an angel. I don't...... know how Ruki-kun...... can hurt you...... and not get upset.

_Azusa goes out of the dungeon and leaves Yui alone.

*TIMESKIP*

_The Mukami brothers are talking in the living room.

Yuma: Riko? Who is this guy?

Azusa: I don't know...... who he is, but maybe.... he knows...... what's going on?

Kou: I know him.

Azusa and Yuma at the same time: Really?

Kou: Yes, he is one of the third year students in the academy. He is a popular boy among students. He is very interested in literature and is very polite, that's why everyone likes him.

Azusa: So if we...... want to find out..... what happened, we have...... to find...... that boy.

Yuma: Good. The plan is to find that boy at school tomorrow and ask him everything.

*TIMESKIP*

_Mukami brothers are going to school.

Kou: Remember that Ruki should not know about this.

Yuma: Well, let's go find this boy.

_The Mukami brothers move towards the third year class and open the door.

Kou: Hai Hai. The famous idol Mukami Kou is here. Hi everyone.

Girls in the class: What? This kou-kun. He came to our class.

_The girls run towards Kou to get autographs and pictures from him.

Kou: I will sign for all of you. Be patient.

_Kou starts and gives autographs to his fans.

Yuma: What the fuck Kou? What the hell are you doing? Have you forgotten why we came here? Did you forget our plan?

Kou: Don't be so stubborn, Yuma-kun. It doesn't take long.

Azusa: We don't...... have time. We have..... to go back faster, otherwise..... Ruki will doubt us.

Yuma: Enough, I have to get to work myself.

_Yuma goes to the middle of the class to attract everyone's attention and everyone notices him because of his height.

Yuma: Everyone listen. We are looking for a third year boy named Riko. Do any of you know this boy?

Female student: He is our classmate and is one of the best students in the class, but he is not at school at the moment.

Yuma: Why?

Female student: Apparently, a young boy beat him in the street a few days ago and caused him to bleed profusely. Now he is hospitalized.

Kou: ......!

_Kou gets suspicious and makes him lose the pen.

Female student: Are you Ok kou-kun?

Kou: ...... in the hospital ......

Yuma: Well, we have to go.

_The Mukami brothers leave the third year class, but the girls try to stop Kou from leaving the class.

Female student 1: Kou-kun, wait, I haven't signed yet.

Female student 2: Wait, I want to take a picture with you.

Kou: Well, girls, I will do all these things another day. But now I have something important to do, so goodbye for now.

_Kou quickly leaves the classroom.

Girls: Awwwwww...

_The Mukami brothers quickly drift away from the third year class.

Azusa: What should...... we do now?

Yuma: Well, we can't go to the hospital to meet that boy. This is how Ruki doubts and so do the others.

Kou: So we have to wait until that boy gets better and returns to school. We can ask him then.

Azusa: We can't..... wait until..... then. In this way, Eve...... gets hurt a lot.

Yuma: Heh. It is true that we have to find another way.

Kou: Aaahhhhhh. I have no idea. This is the only way I can think of, but Azusa is right, if we wait longer, M-Neko-chan will get hurt.

Azusa: Well, what should..... we do now?

Yuma: Let's go talk to Ruki.

Kou: .......

Azusa: .......

Yuma: What?

Kou: Yuma, this is the worst possible decision.

Yuma: I know. But there is only one solution left. now let's go.

*TIMESKIP*

_Ruki is studying in his room.

Ruki: ...

*Tick ​​tock* *tick tock*

Ruki: (Yui used to smile when we were cooking together. Hmmm... her smile was so cute and lovely.)

*Tick ​​tock* *tick tock*

Ruki: ......! What am I thinking about?

*Tick ​​tock* *tick tock*

Ruki: (That cheeky girl, you won't leave me even in my thoughts.)

*Tick ​​tock* *tick tock*

Ruki: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.......

_Ruki angrily throws his book towards the wall.

*Thud*

Ruki: That's enough. That stupid girl must pay for what she did to me. I won't let her have even a moment of peace because she stole my peace from me.

_Ruki angrily goes to the dungeon and opens the door.

*Creeeeeaaak*

_Ruki moves towards Yui and notices that she is unconscious and tries to wake her up by shaking her.

* Rustle Rustle *

Ruki: Oi livestock. wake up right now.

Yui: .......

Ruki: I told you to wake up. Hurry up. Insolent woman, you stole all my peace from me, now you sleep peacefully, wake up now.

*Rustle Rustle*

_Yui opens her eyes slowly and painfully.

Yui: ......Ru.....ki.....kun.....cough.....cough.....

Ruki: Stupid and rude woman. You are a very stupid person who slept safely in front of your master.

Yui: ...... I ..... I .... cough .... cough.....

Ruki: Hahaha... what? can't you talk Pffff.... you are really disappointing. You cried and screamed so much that you brought this disaster on yourself.

Yui: ...... (He is pretending to be innocent. But all this happens to be his fault.)

Ruki: It's really pathetic. You must suffer and cry from pain. Not to sleep peacefully. It is no longer called punishment.

Yui: ......

Ruki: In any case, I'm not that hard-hearted. As your master, I can punish you to the point of death, but I must be careful that you don't die. So tell me if you need anything?

Yui: ....... Wa.... tttt.....er .....

Ruki: Water? Don't tell me that all you want is water. Haha... humans are very weak. OK. I will bring you water. Wait here.

_Yui is still waiting for Ruki as her body falls on the ground. Ruki leaves the dungeon and returns with a glass of water.

Ruki: Well, I brought you water.

Ruki moves towards Yui, who is lying on the ground with a wounded body, to give her water. With great effort, Yui tries to get up from the ground to drink water, but her hands do not have the strength to lift her up, and Yui falls to the ground again.

Yui's body hit the ground so hard that the sound of the cold ground scraping against her soft skin could be heard. Ruki looks at her small and scarred body. His heart beats faster than ever. As if he wants to hug her and caress her wounds.

Ruki brought this disaster to his angel. Even though he blames Yui, he feels guilty. The guilt of breaking a heavenly goddess with his evil hands and burning her heart in fire. This feeling is ridiculous for him and he cannot bear it. He wants to get rid of these feelings and guilt, but he doesn't know how.

_Ruki approaches Yui with slow steps and hugs her body to give her water.

Ruki: Don't push yourself, I will help you to drink water.

_Ruki takes the glass to Yui's mouth and helps her to drink.

Yui: Mmmm.......

*Gulp Gulp*

Ruki: Good. Calm down now. Do you want anything else

Yui: ......Rrr....iiiii...kkkoooo.......

Ruki: ......! (Why? Why are you still talking about that boy now that I'm kind to you? I can't believe it at all.)

_Hearing Riko's name, Ruki cannot control his anger and slaps Yui's cheek hard.

*smack*

Yui: Ooooowww........

_Ruki pushes Yui's body on the ground and gets up from the ground.

Ruki: You are really embarrassing. I can't believe that you are still talking about that boy after suffering all that punishment and pain. You are an ungrateful livestock. You should be thankful that I still didn't kill you, but it seems that you are looking for a heavier punishment.

Yui: ..... wrrr...oonggg.......

Ruki: Wrong? What is wrong. Only my trust in you is wrong. You are pathetic.

Ruki leaves the dungeon by saying cruel words and locks it. He not only locks the door of the dungeon, but also locks the door of his heart. He thought he could let his heart experience love at least once. But he was wrong.

His heart has become the darkest of all. It is impossible to save him. But the goddess still has hope. She knows that he can transform the dark world of this devil if he has hope and continues to try.

monologue

His hand burned my cheek with fire.

He made my face red with a strong blow.

This punishment hurts.

But I am not aware of the pain in his heart.

He didn't want to fall in love because he was afraid.

I don't know what is the reason for his fear.

But the field of his world can be colored if he wants you to come out of this dark world.

I want to save him from the dark world.

But before that I have to save myself from this darkness.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yui komori #komori yui #ruki mukami #mukami ruki #ruki x yui #yui x ruki #rukiyui #angel and devil novel #angel and devil chapter 13

[thequeenofsastiel]

KinnPorsche Episode 12 Review-A Bit Much

I have mixed feelings about this episode. I loved the VegasPete parts, but I feel like the parts with Kinn and Porsche were a bit of a mess.

I didn't love Porsche getting randomly paranoid about the fact that he couldn't get ahold of Kinn, assuming that Kinn was cheating, and spying on him. Admittedly it's not entirely out of character, he did the same thing with Tawan, but Tawan was clearly plotting something. Porsche reacting this way felt rather contrived. The goal was clearly to have Porsche find out that he had been manipulated into working for the main family, but I feel like the show could have done that in a way that didn't make Porsche look like he entirely distrusted Kinn. It rather destroyed what their relationship had been built up to be in ep 11. A relationship in which there is lack of trust and spying is not a healthy one.

I do feel like Porsche's reaction to the revelation made sense, though. I'm glad that he left the main family entirely. While a part of me liked that Kinn followed him, because of how sweet they were together in prior eps, Porsche's behavior at the beginning of the ep shook my love of it, and I don't like that the show didn't bother showing us Porsche and Kinn reconciling. It went from Porsche being furious with Kinn to him smiling softly at him. I get why he didn't blame Kinn, but the transition was too abrupt. There was a scene missing.

I like that Porsche didn't end up killing the guy who hit his parents, but I feel like the show didn't do enough to build up emotion on his part for the scene to have any real weight. Yes, Kim had been investigating it, but Porsche wasn't shown to be dwelling on who killed his parents. He seemed to have moved on. So him deciding to kill the person who accidentally killed his parents felt abrupt. And then there was his confrontation with his uncle who had a picture of his parents with Korn.

I think the show tried to cram too much drama in the parts with Kinn and Porsche into this episode. We got Porsche being paranoid and distrusting of Kinn, a huge red flag, then him finding out about being manipulated into working for the main family, then learning who killed his parents, deciding to kill the man, then deciding not to, and then we had drama with his uncle. It was just too much. All of those things deserved more time than they were given, and because they weren't, they all felt rather meaningless.

The Porchay and Kim parts I didn't love either. I can totally buy Porchay engaging in self destructive behavior after everything that happened with Kim. What I don't understand is Kim's behavior. He goes to the effort of tracking down Porchay, fighting his friends, and dragging him away, but as soon as Porchay pushes back even a little, Kim gives up and leaves, as if he's the one who has a right to be mad. I don't approve of him showing up and being violent, but it doesn't make any sense for him to have emotions that powerful, showing such an intense desire to control Porchay, and then abruptly giving up. I would expect him to try harder. Again, not that I approve of being controlling like that, it's just that his behavior doesn't make sense.

Now, the VegasPete parts I did enjoy. I loved seeing Vegas's soft side. Dgmw, I don't think that makes him a good person, he's still someone who enjoys torturing and killing people, but I do like that he's multidimensional. Seeing him cry over his hedgehog was heartbreaking, because that animal was adorable and I loved all of his moments with it.

I also couldn't help but love how hard Pete fell for him. That he gave into his kink desires. They were beautiful together. I also like that Vegas didn't force himself on Pete, despite the fact that he did sexually assault Pete at the beginning of ep 11. I was able to actually enjoy them together and feel okay about it.

The VegasPete parts get a 10/10. The rest of it gets a 5/10.

#KinnPorsche #KinnPorsche episode 12 #KinnPorsche review #my reviews #vegaspete

[whispers-of-gallifrey]

Side of my brain panicking about the future vs side of my brain panicking about not living to see the future fight!

#tw death #this post brought to you by the panic attack i had this morning about everyone i love dying and it being my fault #and the panic attack i had 10 minutes ago about failing second year when i dont even start till next week #i mean ive always had panic attacks thinking about the future so thats nothing new bc theres so much uncertainty #i wish i could have a step by step breakdown of everything bc then i could actually do stuff #like all of my lectures are pre recorded and released every monday so keeping ontop of them is gonna be hell #like its hard enough to remember to do the reading for things but the lectures too??? i have to chose my own 2hr timeslots in which to watch #them???? #2nd is gonna be hard and it actuallt counts so im probably gonna get a third and the amount of work i put into getting a first last year is #meaningless so why did i even bother trying and crying so much about everything i did #i wish i could get a diagnosis for something bc somethjngs not normal about me and i want to be able to focus and work normally and i cant #ive always been a high achieving student which sounds like a really stupid thing to complain about like oh no i got another a* how horrifyin #but i have such a huge fear of failure and an inability to start a task unless i know precisely what to do bc i dont want to get it wrong #and uni is so hard for that bc the only time you get feedback is when they grade your work and thats your final grade #whereas at school all your work was practice for the final exams so you could improve #but uni theyll give you your mark and a comment like oh you should have included x #and like that would be good for future reference except im not doing that topic again so whats the point #okay i guess my panic attack is still going rip #sorry for rambling i just need to speak this into the void

[yeluki]

NEGLECTING YOU — mikey

a/n: so i tried writing a oneshot/scenario... went ok i guess. definetely some room for improvement haha warnings: mentions of abandonment, crying/breakdown, absense of a lover, fluff, possibly bad grammar/misspellings characters included: mikey

MIKEY — it's been a month. you haven't heard from him, and you're worried. each day your situation only continues to look worse and worse, and you can't do anything to stop it; or rather, you don't want to do anything to stop it. why? because you understand. you understand that running the biggest criminal organization in all of japan is hard work, and you don't want to bother him. but you're sick of it. you're sick of everything. you miss him. you miss mikey. you miss his lips that used to gently kiss every part of you. you miss the warm embrace he'd engulf you in during late hours, and you miss the gentle words of affirmation that would spill from his lips and sink into your mind. you're sick of the waiting. you're sick of the cold bed. you're sick of the emptiness in your heart that refuses to fill itself as much as you try to seal it. you're sick of being alone. so, you go out to find him. you ask everyone— rindou, ran, sanzu, koko, everyone. you try everyone, but they all reply with the same thing— "i can't tell you." why? why couldn't you know? you were dating mikey, you were loving mikey, why would everyone shut you out like this? what did you do? was he...leaving you? a dozen thoughts raced inside your mind as you walked home from sanzu's place, raindrops staining your clothes. — that night, it was colder than usual. after finally trying to reach mikey, the loneliness only felt worse. you felt cold, neglected, angry, and sad— so many things at once. you ate dinner alone, again, and got ready for bed, again, and sat on the couch to read, again, all alone. all fucking alone. no mikey, just you. you read 50 pages, secretly hoping the familiar head smothered with fluffy white hair would peak through the door, wave, and kiss you. you hoped he'd come home and hug you, cuddle you, and love you. you hoped, and hoped, and hoped, and hoped, and hoped, and hoped, and hoped, and hoped— until the door creaked open. emerging from outside was a tired, pale, and sad face. mikey's face. he showed no expression as he walked right past you, into the bedroom, and shut the door. shocked, angry, and sad, horrified, even— you began to cry. your frame, now standing, began to shrivel up into a ball of despair, as tears poured from your shining eyes. soft cries turned into ugly sobs, ugly sobs turned into screams. you were breaking down, right there on the carpet. hearing your despair, mikey snuck into the living room with a soft yet concerned expression on his face. eyes landing upon you, his eyes widened. he slowly approached your figure, gently reaching out to hold your hand. as soon as he touched you, you lunged at him. you thrust your arms around his neck, and buried your face in his chest. you looked like you were melting into him, and you were trying to. you began wailing meaningless nothings about how he was a jerk for leaving you, neglecting you, scaring you, and coming home like nothing happened. you began to hit his chest, but he just stayed expressionless. you cried for what seemed like hours, and he let you hit him. he let you take all of your rightful anger out on him, and you still hit him. you almost swung at his face, until a callused hand stopped your hammering fist. mikey calmly took your hands in his, and wrapped his arms around you. he held your head to his shoulder as he buried his head into your hair. softly tinkering with your hair, two words quietly stepped from his mouth. "i'm sorry." that was it. that was the final straw. "(Y/N), i'm so sorry." stop it. "i love you...so fucking much." and with that, he carries you off to the bedroom, plopping you down on the bed, and snuggling right up to you. "you're not alone anymore."

#msuri ☆ post #mikey #mikey x reader #manjiro #manjiro x reader #sano #sano x reader #manjiro sano x reader #manjiro sano #tokyo revengers #mikey angst #mikey fluff

[elysiadjarin]

Day 3: Dacryphilia

Jesse Cromeans may be a ruthless killer, but at home with you? You’re the one in charge. And especially those days when you’re annoyed at how long he’s been gone and he comes back so desperate for your attention… well. You did so like to see him cry.

Day 3 of Kinktober has arrived! I actually think I discovered some things about myself writing this one, so y’all enjoy. 😂 Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content only. This one is a slasher x reader fic, so please beware of mentions of murder and assault as part of the territory, though nothing is explicitly mentioned. PinV unprotected sex, dacryphilia, desperation, cumplay.

Tags: Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) x reader, slasher x reader, yandere!reader, soft femdom, sub/dom themes

Paint Splatters over Canvas

It was rather funny, really.

You scrolled through your phone, ignoring the giant man standing in the doorway of the room staring at you. Jesse had always made a point of never touching you without your permission. A way for him to separate the meaningless victims of his murderous hobby with you, his wife, his everything. And while of course your relationship stayed perfectly strong, you well aware of his hobby and he well aware of your own tendencies… it did sometimes backfire on him in the best worst ways.

Like now. When you were annoyed with him because he’d been gone an entire day later than he’d promised, extra dark web cash be damned. A promise was a promise, and it wasn’t as though he’d needed the money. He did have a perfectly legal and highly successful business, after all. So shouldn’t you have come first?

You liked revenge cold, playing the long game; something you had in common with Jesse. And today, you certainly had plans put in place for said revenge. Which, for the time being, meant ignoring Jesse. You had plenty to occupy you, from communications for the business to just working on your own projects. Still, you’d made sure to be just nonchalant enough to let him know that it was all so… deliberate.

Jesse shuffled in the doorway, clearly wanting your attention but knowing better than to think any sort of demanding would get him anywhere. He’d learned the hard way that at home, his power over subordinates decidedly did not apply to you. When you didn’t give him any response, he hovered for a moment, clearly trying to decide on what to do next.

You knew how he would get after a mission. Needy. Wanting. Starved for attention and affection from you. Pent up for days, probably thinking about you every spare moment between takes.

With a hum, you typed out a message on your phone before standing and heading for the doorway. You briefly looked up to see him as you brushed past in the doorway. “Oh, hi, Jesse,” you said, giving him a brief, distracted smile. “I’m off to get ready for a meeting with a client.” You headed for the bedroom, already thinking about your next steps.

You could hear him following behind you, could almost feel the mounting despair as he started to realized what was happening. Why you had used his name instead of the usual love, darling. His shoulders hunched, and you could see his face twist as he clearly tried to think of what to do. He already knew that you’d have your revenge however you wanted: apologies would be expected but certainly wouldn’t get him any closer to mercy.

Walking into the bedroom, you headed straight for the bathroom to start preparing. Jesse still trailed along behind you like a forlorn, helpless puppy, and you swore you could almost hear him let out a small whine. Pausing for a moment in front of your vanity, you dialed your friend’s number and set it to speaker, putting it down on the countertop and sitting in front of the mirror.

You tied your hair up and reached for your cosmetics, beginning the process as the phone dialed. Your friend picked up quickly, already in on your plan thanks to your texting. She always approved of your payback plans.

Bestie! I thought you said you had to prepare for the meeting? I mean, yknow, not that I don’t like hearing from you. She cheerfully teased over the phone.

You smiled. “Well yeah, I just sat down to do my makeup. But I mean, we did say we were going to talk about the party for little Jacen this weekend, and what better time than now? You can help me pick out an outfit once I’m done,” you cajoled, noticing how Jesse sat on the edge of the jacuzzi bathtub, unabashedly staring at you. He always had loved watching you get ready for an event. Not that you minded.

Fair enough. Your best friend admitted readily. But seriously, you didn’t have to go all out for Jacen like this. She half scolded. It’s so much!

You laughed lightly, the creamy foundation smoothing across your skin. “Oh c’mon, he’s my adorable little nephew in all but name. He deserves to get spoiled by his doting Aunt, let me have my fun,” you wheedled, knowing she would cave.

She sighed over the receiver. I swear, girl, you could convince anyone into anything.

“Or maybe I’m just your weakness, Miss Mara,” you teased back. The soft brush in your fingers blended the contour onto your face, and you smiled as you glanced at the phone. “But anyway, did you manage to figure out what he might want for a birthday present? Or are we going with my original idea to let him loose in a mall?”

Oh, no, you are so not buying him everything he points at. I’d never get him to not be a spoiled brat if I let you.Mara snorted. I’ll text you what I figured out, he seems to be pretty fixated on it right now.

“Ugh, fineeee,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “But I’m going to at least get him that adorable motorized scooter I showed you before. He’s going to look so cute riding around in it.”

Fair enough I suppose. Better than the mall idea— wait, did you just get me to agree to something extravagant by threatening something so ridiculous—

“Anyway,” you interrupted blithely, “did you send out invitations to everyone?”

Yep, and I got back all the RSVPs. Speaking of which, I thought you said that you were meeting with the CEO of some business tonight? What’s that all about? I know you, you normally don’t like dealing with people.

You sighed. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag a little.” You pouted, reaching for the eyeshadow and liner. “Jesse was supposed to be back yesterday, but since he wasn’t I had to reschedule, and I promised to personally meet with the CEO in order to smooth over ruffled feathers. But besides that… I wanted to be there personally to see my best friend and her husband’s house finally paid off for their fifth anniversary.”

A pause. Then a screech that made you grin. You’re not serious! Babes, no, wait—

“No use protesting!” You said cheerfully, waving your brush. “It’s already been practically settled. Besides, you both need to start saving up for Jacen’s college funds. We did have the agreement that I’d open the doors to whatever college he wanted instead of just paying for it,” you reminded.

Ugh, I don’t know if I want to smack you or hug you, you sly little— Mara groaned. Wait till I tell Damien, he won’t know what hit him. She laughed. Thank you. You know how much it means to us. I won’t scold.

“Good.” You nodded. “And you know I’ll take care of you.”

She sighed. Never doubted it. So, how’s the process?

You hummed, pursing your lips as you finished the eyeshadow and grabbed the mascara. “About to do mascara, then all I have left is the lipstick. But shouldn’t I wait till we pick a dress before I actually pick a color?”

Probably. What’s the mood? You going for boss ass bitch, sultry Queen, or mysterious vampire lady? Amusement laced Mara’s voice.

“You’re not even in my house and yet you walked in and called me out to my face,” you said dryly, earning laughter. Jesse, you saw in the mirror, tilted his head with a small smile playing over his lips. He’d quietly observed the whole processes, eyes fixed on your face.

Only cause I love you. So, show me the closet, girl! Oh, show me your makeup first tho so we got reference.

You picked up the phone as you finished, turning on the camera so she could see your makeup sans the lipstick. She whistled, eyebrows wriggling teasingly as she grinned.

Oh, so mysterious vampire queen it is. She smirked. Closet. Though I do have the feeling that we’re going to be choosing a gorgeous red lipstick.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered, standing and heading for your closet. You heard Jesse stand and follow behind you, and stifled a smile. Flipping the camera, you started to flip through the racks of dresses. “Does that mean we’re leaning towards a black dress?”

Hmm, probably. Actually, how about one of your sleek black ones? The one with like, barely any frills and only a tiny bit of lace at the top. Off the shoulder. If you’re gonna try to assert dominance, probably drawing attention to your mouth and hands is the best way to go.

You tilted your head at the hangers, then nodded. “You’re right. Especially if I go for the red lipstick. I could also honestly use a glass of wine during that meeting,” you sighed.

Mara snickered. Blood in a wine glass? How stereotypical of you, madame.

“You hush, drama queen,” you said dryly, finding the dress she’d described and pulling it out.

Ooh, that’s the one! And I know you have that one crimson shade of lipstick that I always say looks vampiric.

You went back to the vanity and set the phone down, pretending to not notice that it showed Jesse standing in the doorway, clearly staring at you. You slid your shirt off, careful not to smudge any makeup, then slipped out of your pants and reached for the dress. Smoothing it over your front to get rid of any wrinkles, you sat back down and tilted the camera back to yourself, reaching for the lipstick.

“This one, right?” You waved it in front of your face.

Yep! That dress is stunning, by the way. Oh, and what are you doing with your hair?

“Ugh, I don’t really wanna bother too much with it, so I figured I’d go with the… messy, loose waves.” You shrugged, applying the lipstick.

Mara snorted. I think you mean, ‘sorry I’m late I was doing things’ while ignoring Jesse staggering behind you clearly radiating ‘I’m things’ energy.

You half-choked, laughing despite yourself. “Mara-! Seriously!”

She rolled her eyes at you. I’m just saying it like it is. But you go girlie, you look bomb. She laughed. Blow them all away. Be the boss bitch you are. A noise in the background interrupted her. Oop, that’s my cue. I gotta go, text me though okay?

“Will do, tell Damien and Jacen hi for me.” You smiled and hung up, finishing fluffing your hair. Standing, you grabbed the phone and headed for the door. “The meeting is in five minutes,” you remarked to Jesse as you passed him in the doorway. “If you want to join.”

You saw him type on his phone, the text to speech translator sounding a moment later. May I be there with you?

You flashed him a warm smile, as though you weren’t at all deliberately enacting revenge. “Of course! I’d love to have you there. Let’s go.” With a little hum, you headed towards the stairs.

Your phone pinged with a message. Girl, I swear he was drooling. You’re so mean sometimes. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

You suppressed a laugh, replying with one hand as your other slid down the bannister to guide you down the staircase. You know it. Mission so far successful. Wish me luck, I’m about to go into this meeting.

You looked up as you got to the bottom of the stairs, seeing an assistant waiting with the guest. The assistant bowed politely. “May I introduce Mr. Trace, CEO of Finley Bank.”

Giving the assistant a nod, you turned to Mr. Trace. “Greetings, Mr. Trace. Welcome! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I do apologize for the delay,” you said, taking charge and sweeping towards the parlor.

He followed after automatically. “Of course, Mrs. Cromeans,” he answered, quickly recovering from his moment of bewilderment.

You motioned to a chair, sitting on the velvet couch across the coffee table. “Please, please, have a seat,” you said, keeping the easy smile on your face. “Can I get you a drink? Anything at all?”

He blinked, sitting down and setting his briefcase next to him. “Ah— thank you. I’d appreciate a scotch on the rocks if it’s available.”

“Of course,” you said easily, nodding to the maid standing nearby. “A red wine for me, please.” You smiled at Jesse as he sat next to you. “Your regular?” you asked sweetly. At his nod, you turned back to the maid. “And a glass of dry white.”

She bowed and went to go fetch the drinks.

“I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do, Mr. Trace,” you said smoothly, “so I’ll not take any more of your time than necessary. Of course, as I said, I’d like to discuss several things with you…”

Twenty minutes later found you leaning against the arm of the couch, feet propped up beside you as you swirled the last dregs of the red wine, tapping the glass with your fingernails. The CEO had long since emptied his scotch, and Jesse was on his second glass. His fingers kept clenching around the flute of his glass every time your feet brushed against his thigh.

“Of course,” Trace said with a nod, jotting down the final notes on the paperwork. “Easily managed. Are there any other details you would like to add or anything else to discuss?” He looked up at you.

Your tactics of firm politeness and the scotch seemed to have worked their charm, and you’d been able to rather easily dominate the flow of the interaction. Not to mention, Mara had been right about appearances clearly setting a tone. Trace seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact with either you or Jesse.

“Not at all, Mr. Trace,” you said, a pleased note in your voice. “I’m rather pleased at how everything has turned out. We do so value your business, you know.” You tilted the glass in your fingers. “Shall I sign the papers?”

“At your leisure.” He slid them across the table toward you.

You slowly uncurled yourself like a lazy feline, straightening yourself and leaning over to set the glass down on the table. Grasping the pen, you slowly signed your name on the papers, eyes glancing over the print to ascertain that everything was in order. Shuffling through the papers, you finally set the pen down.

Trace took them back, glancing through them before nodding. “Everything seems to be in order.” He slid them back into his briefcase. “Thank you as always for your business, Mrs. Cromeans, Mr. Cromeans.”

You nodded, and Jesse stood, setting his glass down. You rose as well, sliding your arm into the crook of his elbow as he automatically adjusted for you. “And thank you for your help, Mr. Trace,” you answered easily. “I do hope you have a productive rest of the day. Do be safe out there.”

He nodded as the assistant returned to escort him out. “Same to you.”

With a hum, you absently patted Jesse’s arm and let yours slide out of his grasp, drifting towards the stairs again. “Oh, I need to go tell Mara it’s all confirmed. Besides, this dress is only comfortable for so long,” you remarked, pulling out your phone again.

Guess who completely owns their house now? You texted Mara, smiling. And your tactics worked, I think dominance was asserted.

You waltzed into the bedroom, headed straight for the closet. “Jesse, are you hungry? I think the food I ordered should have arrived by now, it should be in front of the TV. Maybe pick a movie? I still have a few messages to send.”

You changed into a comfortable black babydoll nightdress, sighing in relief as the silk slid over your skin. It was far more comfortable, and you could feel yourself finally starting to relax after the pent-up tension of the meeting. You really did hate dealing with people, especially ones like the CEO.

Your phone buzzed as you went to go pick it back up. You are literally the best. Now go finish seducing Jesse while I go figure out how to make this news sexy.

Stifling a snort, you went to go wipe your makeup off and wash your face. You could hear the sounds of the TV starting in the bedroom, so you took one more glance in the mirror before heading out into the room, still tapping at your phone. You still had to finish some arrangements for Jacen’s birthday, after all, and your revenge was still percolating.

Jesse’s head turned as soon as you approached the couch in front of the TV. You ignored the way he froze, sliding onto the couch and tucking your feet under a soft blanket. Sending off another message, you set it beside you and reached forward to grab a tray, pulling it into your lap.

“I figured you might not want anything too heavy since you just got back, so I kinda just made a guess and ended up ordering too much…” You frowned at the myriad of food laid out over the table. “Sorry, Jesse… I don’t even know if this is what you want—“

The text to speech cut you off. The food is fine, thank you. I’m sorry for being late. I know I can only make excuses, but I am sorry. Can I make it up to you?

A frown touched your lips as you picked up your spoon, still not looking at him. Your fingernails tapped against the screen of your phone. “Jacen asked the other day if Uncle Jesse would be at his party. I told him I didn’t know, but I’d ask.”

He quickly typed. Of course, if he asked for me, I’ll be sure to be there. His fingers paused, then he slowly typed again, as though hesitating. I got you a present while I was gone.

You hummed, swallowing your food and picking your phone back up. “He’ll be happy to hear it. And thank you for the present.” You sent a message to tell Mara that Jacen’s wish had been granted.

Jesse practically fidgeted as he ate, the movie playing in the background. You could feel his eyes slide from the screen to you, could almost hear the wheels in his head frantically turning. The tension in every line of his body was obvious, his movements stilted and jerky. He practically twitched every time you so much as moved.

Finally, you set down the tray, grabbing a mint to refresh your mouth. Shifting to get more comfortable, you angled yourself towards him a little more. You snitched a piece of food from his plate, letting out a hum as you smiled down at Mara’s message. If possible, Jesse stiffened even more, his fingers clenching so hard around his spoon that it even bent a little in his grasp.

A crumb fell from your fingers onto the lace edge of your nightgown, and you let out a quiet noise of protest as you looked down. Your fingers brushed against the top of your breast, brushing off the crumb. Sticking your finger in your mouth, you typed out a message in response to another conversation. With a sigh, you looked up and glanced over Jesse’s shoulder to see the lamp on the table next to him. Night had fallen, and shadows fell over the room.

Stirring yourself, you sat up, setting your phone down for a moment. “Can I turn on the lamp? I don’t wanna get up for the lights,” you said, starting to lean across him. Almost thoughtlessly, you placed your hand on his thigh and put your weight on it, reaching over his body on your hands and knees to pull at the cord on the lamp. The light clicked on, just as a low keening sound came from Jesse.

Your head tilted at the sound, and you turned to look up at his face. It was your turn to freeze.

Jesse’s face had crumpled, his soft green eyes literally awash with tears. His hands were clenched at his sides, his chest heaving with hitching breaths as he struggled to control his expression. The tears welled in his eyes, and faint color had splashed across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Slowly, a smile crossed your lips as you stared up at his face. Leaning back, you tilted your head, licking your lips. “Oh, look at you,” you breathed. “You made all the little piggies cry, Jesse. But maybe it’s your turn, hmm?” Your eyes flickered down to the way his entire body trembled, every muscle taut and strained.

You moved, sliding your entire body into his lap to straddle his waist and face him. Crossing your arms under your chest, you stared into his face. “I don’t know… you broke your promise, though.” Your eyebrow raised at him, and he let out another hoarse whimper. Tears slid down his cheeks, his mouth opening for shuddering breaths.

He shook his head, lips trembling as he lifted one hand and signed. Sorry. Please. Sorry. His fingers spelled out your name.

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands. You leaned up, face drawing closer to his. “But I already accepted your apology, love,” you cooed, smiling. “You know what I think?” You slowly dragged your tongue across his tear tracks, your body flushing with heat at the taste of the bitter salt. “I think,” you murmured against his jaw, “that I like seeing you cry.”

Jesse’s breath hitched on a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks. It was fairly intoxicating, seeing the giant man completely fall apart under you, trapped between his desperation and his personal standards. When you slid forward, your body pressing flush against him, another sob wrenched from his gritted teeth.

You decided for the moment to have a bit of mercy. Reaching down, you grasped his wrists and lifted his hands to your waist. His fingers instantly clenched in the silk babydoll dress, shaking as he grabbed at your waist. His entire body lurched forwards towards you, eyes fixed on your face.

You hummed softly, brushing a kiss to his jaw. “Your eyes are so pretty when they’re filled with tears, Jesse,” you purred, drawing his face closer to you. Still, you refused to kiss him, instead trailing your lips down his jaw, down to his throat. You opened your mouth against his neck, savoring the taste of his skin and the soft scent of his cologne.

Jesse’s trembling fingers jerked against your waist, and he slumped into you. His hands slid over your waist to your lower back, his touch practically reverent as he squeezed. His breaths came quick and fast, breaking occasionally on a sob. Every time you suckled or moved your lips, every time your hands slid down his shoulders, he gasped and shuddered, more tears dripping down his cheeks.

You slid your hands down, starting to unbutton his shirt. Your tongue dragged across his neck, and you felt the bulge in his pants throb against your thigh. “Isn’t this punishment fair, darling?” you cooed. “I only ask for a few tears, hmm? A front row seat to your pretty eyes?”

His head jerked, even though it wrenched another tortured sob from him. Despite the contact, you could feel his frustration mounting.

You pulled back, looking up at him as you finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Your fingers slid across his bared chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “But isn’t this what you wanted? Me, paying attention to you?”

His gasps had turned ragged. His hips jerked, rutting up against your thigh. A strangled noise left his throat, his eyes squeezing shut. His grip on your waist threatened to leave fingerprints against your skin.

“No?” You bit your lip, raking your nails lightly against his chest. “Then what is it you want, hmm?”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, unconsciously licking his own. His fingers clenching, he pulled you down to grind against his cock, straining in his trousers. Pants fell from his mouth, and he kept glancing from your eyes to your lips.

You reached down, teasingly trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Unzipping his trousers, you looked up at his face and smiled as you traced one fingertip down the bulge in his underwear. His eyes fairly rolled back in his head, more tears streaming down his face afresh.

“Look at you, already such a mess,” you murmured, sliding your fingers into his underwear. The moment you wrapped a hand around his cock and slid up, you were rewarded with a guttural groan. He gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to stay still. With a soft laugh, you leaned up and brushed a kiss to his ear.

You tugged at his collar. “Why don’t you lie down for me?” you murmured.

He immediately complied, his hands still clamped around your waist as he turned and shifted up, lying down on the couch. He stared up at you, face still twisted in agony and desperation.

Lifting yourself a little, you tilted your head at him. “Take your pants off for me?”

He practically kicked his pants and underwear off in his haste. You guided one of his hands to the latch on the side of your own panties, giving him an amused smile and nod. His trembling fingers unlatched them, his chest heaving as he watched the black silk slide away from your skin. The moment you lowered back down onto him, his cock throbbed against you and his back arched.

Leaning forward, you hummed a pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Jesse, love,” you murmured. “Cry for me a little more?” You cupped his face in your hands, feeling your wetness coat his own length as you ground against his tip. But you deliberately kept shifting, not giving him any steady pressure.

Another broken whine came from him, and a few more tears slipped down his cheeks. Frustration scrunched his face, his neck mottled with red and flushing down to his shoulders and chest, making your white nail marks stand out. His hips jerked, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“Is this what you want?” You pressed down against him again, feeling his cock slip against your wet folds teasingly.

His head jerked in a nod, almost violently. Tremors kept running through his arms, his body occasionally shuddering under you.

You leaned down and sucked his lower lip between yours. Your teeth nipped at his lip, and you finally slanted your mouth over his. Tears poured afresh down his cheeks as he desperately pulled at you, trying to get closer, kiss you more. You relented and let him, thumbs brushing against his jaw as you hummed softly into his frantic, pleading kisses. Without warning, you slipped your tongue between his lips, feeling his mouth part with alacrity. When you finally parted, his green eyes were glazed over with tears, hazily staring at you.

Then you smiled at him slyly. “I think you’ve deserved a little bit more,” you decided.

The moment you slid his tip into you, he choked. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling for breath. His entire body froze, humming taut under you and his eyes sightlessly staring up at the ceiling.

You observed his wrecked expression, licking your lips with satisfaction. Rarely did Jesse ever fully submit to you like this, usually a brat. But tonight, you had absolute and utter control, and you intended to milk every last ounce of satisfaction out of it. The memories would fuel you for years of his utterly ruined expression, tears slipping down his cheeks as he drooled uncontrollably.

“So pretty, darling,” you purred, licking the tears from his cheek. You gave him another kiss, letting his hands wander over your waist and up your front. “So good for me. Do you think you can handle more?”

His eyes widened, breath quickening. He glanced down, then shook his head jerkily. Then nodded. Then shook his head.

You tilted your head. “Hmmm.” A wicked grin crossed your lips. “No? Oh, but I think you can,” your said, just as you lifted yourself and fully sheathed him inside you.

Jesse sobbed. His mouth opened, tongue lolling as he gasped. Tears poured down his cheeks from the mingled pleasurable pain and relief. His cock throbbed inside you, and his hands grasped desperately at your thighs. His entire body started to shake, arching.

You barely gave him time to adjust before you were already bouncing on him, hands braced against the back of the couch. Laughter spilled from your lips, delighted and cruel, as his hands scrabbled against your thighs, raking across your skin. Moans kept being torn from his throat, your name framed on his lips.

As soon as you angled your hips and brought your fingers down to ring tight circles on your clit, you hissed in pleasure. You pulsed around his cock, earning another helpless sob and wave of tears. He just hit that one spot inside you perfectly, again and again, until you bit your lip and moaned his name as you came around him. Your body clenched down on him, even as you kept fucking yourself through your orgasm.

More laughter spilled from your lips. “Are you gonna cum for me, Jesse, my pretty darling?” you asked breathlessly, purposely moaning his name. “Gonna cum inside me?”

The only warning you got from Jesse was another sob and the gritting of his teeth. His hands flew to your hips, slamming you down on him one more time before holding you there with an iron grip. Gasps tore from his mouth, his eyes trying to blink away tears as he stared up at you.

You hummed, caressing his hands and arms as you bit your lip in satisfaction. He kept pouring into you, his hips jerking once in a while and wringing a whimper from him. Finally, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His lips parted under yours weakly, chest heaving under your hands.

“Thank you, Jesse,” you cooed sweetly between kisses. “You’re so good to me, make me feel so good.” Your mind fuzzed with the pleasure of both your high and the sight of his tears.

He pushed up against you, kissing you fervently. Though he didn’t say a word, you could feel his thoughts through his drugged, sloppy kiss.

You giggled, teasingly clenching down on him one more time and earning a jerk and grunt. “And I forgive you. But don’t do it again, okay?”

Jesse’s calculating look as he clearly weighed the consequences made you roll your eyes but laugh. Maybe this one would turn out to backfire against you, next time.

You decided it was worth it.

#elysiadjarinkinktober #elysiadjarin #mywriting #my writing #kinktober #smut #nsft #x reader #slashers #slasher x reader #chromeskull #jesse x reader #chromeskull x reader #Yandere reader #yandere #jesse Cromeans x reader #x you #slasher #My fic #fanfic

[yanderenightmare]

bitchy bratty catty pretty-girl who gives fuck-all, the school tries to straighten her ways by introducing her to a temporary captured shiggy, who is soooo fucking pissed off at this smug pretty bitch, going to track her down and make her pay!!!! >-< plez Mizz Nightmare

yandere kidnapper ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dubcon/noncon, abuse, profanity, bullying, anxiety, drugging, kidnapping, abduction

CUTTHROAT

“Wow! Right for the kill?! You’re real cutthroat.”

She wasn’t really surprised to hear that they’d caught him, and unlike many others she wasn’t surprised to hear that they’d be holding him on campus. She had full confidence in both the faculty, the promising Hero-course students, and UA’s security system, knowing damn well it could serve well as a prison not just for the students who went there, such as herself, but for the leader of the League of Villains as well.

To say she felt safe as she walked with Aizawa to meet him would be an understatement. She knew why the teacher had been tasked with taking her there, the intention being to scare her, give her a picture of what scum she would become if she continued down the path of fuck-all she was currently on. But, even though she wanted to rebel against taking any orders, she was feeling something far more superior than the will to fight back, something that trumped safety and laid waste to fear, she was feeling thrill. 

This would be a means to an end, a cure for boredom as well as a way to show once and for all that she was a hopeless cause, maybe then these obsessive heroes would leave her the fuck alone already.

“Wow, you’re really ugly! I mean, they warned me you were, but I could never’ve imagined it’d be this bad!”

She was jeering laughs at the lanky figure who towered over her, his hand wrapped tightly around her throat and his eyes spiraling in disbelief in process of understanding why what was found beneath his fingertips wasn’t turning to ash.

“Aren’t bad guys supposed to be sexy?” Her idiotic rambling only succeeded in confusing him more as she shrugged his seemingly useless normal hand away, walking to sit down on the floor, knowing it would be a while until Aizawa let her out again. “You know, to seduce and lure people into their ranks?” She looked over the meal tray he’d flipped out of her hand before seizing her throat, nothing sharp, no cutlery, no broken glass, just one measly apple. “I’m guessing you’re not in charge of recruiting. I mean… who would ever want to follow your ugly mug?”

She watched in anticipation of what remark he’d hurl her way. She’d heard he was bratty, she’d heard he was the one who could set her straight, divert her from this collision-course she’d set herself out on. Yet, his response was more than disappointing, not at all the tornado of a tantrum she had been preparing for. “You talk too much.” He didn’t even sound at all any provoked by her words, dismissing her as he slowly made to pick up the apple from the ground, checking to see if it was his quirk that was gone or if there was something else afoot, finding his answer in the ashes of the fruit.

“Come on.” She drawled, crossing her legs beneath her, keen eyes looking at him as he too sat back down to lean against the wall, looking only a fair bit of annoyed with her presence, as though she were a stain on his shirt, an inconvenience of some sorts. “You were gonna kill me!” She laughed, his red scrutinizing orbs looking to her with a sneer. “Without a thought, in cold blood, no remorse, even after I gave you food like the mutt you are, the least I can do is spit in your face!” 

He didn’t answer. Eyes still set on her where she sat planted without a single care, annoyed with how comfortable she looked, as though she were in her element, as though she was winning some sort of game, a game that wasn’t even about him as her eyes flittered to the black-glass of the window every now and again.

She clicked her tongue, beginning a new ramble. “Tell me, Shiggy.” She smiled, eyes wicked and gleaming and untamed. “That quirk of yours…”

She might have phrased it all like a question, but Shigaraki could hear it plain and simple, how her one goal was to mock him, poke at him until he burst, and not even for the sake of watching him burst, but for the sake of proving to whomever was on the other side of that glass that they couldn’t tame her. He didn’t need to know her entire story to see that much, how he was being used as a pawn to convert some meaningless pretty-girl.

“Can you control it? Or does everything you touch turn to ash no matter your desire?” It wouldn’t have been out of place if she’d licked her lips with how dripping with venom her words were. “It’s like the Midas touch, isn’t it?”

Her poetic phrasing of his deadly quirk had his eyes narrowing, but he hadn’t much time to think her wording over before she began a new escapade.

“Have you ever fucked anyone, Shiggy?” She didn’t even look at him as she asked, alerting him of what he already knew, how she had no interest in his answer, only his reaction, and the reaction his reaction would beckon from the people in the other room. 

She was trying to rile him up, prove how vicious she could be, prove how she hadn’t a single fuck to give. 

“I bet you’ve never truly touched anyone. How could you? I mean, first…” She laid down on her back with a careless roll, looking to the ceiling, ignoring him if it weren’t for the fact she was talking to him, or about him, or at him. “Who would ever want to fuck you? All those wrinkles and all those scars. You look like the onset of death.” She giggled, and he watched her tits bounce as though they were laughing at him too. “I cannot imagine anyone willingly wanting whatever you have to offer. And even if you force it on them, you’d be bound to fuck up with how much they’d struggle.” You’d think she carried a vendetta toward him, with how personal her attacks were, yet it was all given away with how little she was paying attention to him, as though she’d judged already whatever it was she found interesting and was now done with him. All she remained focused on was creating a show, to see how far she could take it before anyone came in to stop her, how much she could poke until something snapped, how much she could bend until something broke. “Just one slip of the hand and you’re left with your dick only halfway wet in a pile of dust.”

He didn’t know if she knew how correct her imagery was, he guessed she didn’t, he wanted to believe she’d show a bit more restraint then, a bit more unease, more respect. She acted as though she wasn’t trapped in a box with a notorious villain, seemingly unaware of her own stature as well as his. She was nothing but a school-girl and yet she felt comfortable enough in her safety to be lying on her back, flinging insult at the person she was locked in with.

“I don’t see how it could bother you for too long though.” Again, she had him intrigued. “I mean… pretty stupid bitches who’re only worth one fuck anyway can’t really be counted as a loss, can it?”

It was clear she didn’t view herself as one of said pretty stupid bitches, even though a pretty stupid bitch is exactly what she looked like in Shigaraki’s eyes. Perhaps that was her point exactly.

“Have you ever dusted someone who did count as a loss?” She rolled over, head propped up on her elbows, laying in her palms, her feet kicking the air behind her. “You ever fuck up so bad? Committed an irredeemable act? Something so unforgivable even you can’t forgive yourself?” Her eyes were set on him again now. “Do you think about it every day?” Her tone shifted then, to something sadistically sweet. “Does it hurt just as much now as it did then?” Her face split into a grin, eyes ablaze as she observed, searched for a breach in his composure. “What happened to mommy and daddy, Shiggy.” She singsonged, toying with him. “Were they your first victims? Did you cry? Do you still cry? Or did they deserve it?”

Her look was earnest, salacious until she rolled her eyes in boredom at his lack of response.

Sighing, she calmed back down, briefly. “I get it… You don’t want to play with me ‘cause you don’t think I’m a worthy player.” She scoffed as she looked to the side with a melodramatic drag. “You should check yourself. We keep you in a cage, give you food, have you on a leash and collar. You’re nothing but our pet!”

She giggled again, biting her tongue, gnawing on it between the rows of her teeth with her mouth open in a wide smile.

“You know… My quirk is called immunity, but it should really be called repellent.” She looked at her hands then, now kneeling in front of him. Her gaze split like lightning, snapping to look at him again, a catlike smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You and I aren’t that different, are we?” It looked for a second as though she were about to stand up, but the movement fell short as she instead gave way to crawl closer to him, one elegant arm followed by the other, all with the grace of a huntress, a panther easing in for the kill. “In fact… I think I’d go as far and say we’re the exact same…” His eyes didn’t deceive him, this time she did lick her lips, only now her words weren’t dripping with venom, but with some other sickly-sweet nectar. “’Cause…where I never let anyone come close, you let ‘em come close… only for them to die!”

“That’s enough.” He must have closed his eyes the second he felt her breath fan over his face, because he’d missed the time the erasure hero had walked in. “This was a waste of time.” The dark-haired man groaned, disappointed.

“Aw, really?”

She wasn’t in front of him anymore, to his surprising disappointment, though her sweet smell still lingered about him pleasantly.

“And I was just getting to the fun part…” She walked to the threshold of the cell-door, not once indicating she’d turn around and take one final look at him. “Well, anyway… tootles, pet.”

Even as she insulted him, she did it twice over by not returning his gaze.

-

She was still sleeping, she noted as her mind, though still groggy and drowsed out, became lucid enough to start thinking. She was sleeping, yet the sleep felt unsafe, as though her alarm was bound to go off any second, firmly shaking her awake and telling her time was running out for her to get to school. And if she’d slept through the alarm, a teacher was soon to come fetch her. Yet, for now she remained halfway asleep, waiting for an alarm or a knock on the door unknowing of how it would never arrive.

He wasn’t sure if it was the drug that had perhaps made some of her senses dull under the impression, for… surely she should feel that her mouth was stuffed full and made to suck on a rag, surely she should feel that her wrists were tied together behind her back, and how her thighs and legs were secured together in a frog tie, the rough rope, scratchy in texture, and how it scraped against her soft doughy skin. Perhaps he didn’t tie them tight enough. It was hard to get a good grip without accidentally dusting the ropes, but he knew the struggle was worth it, seeing her now, in all her defenseless vulnerable rightful glory.

“Not so tough now…” He taunted at her small sleeping frame. Even with her clothes still on, he knew her naked body was only a mere touch away from him. How he could spread her open without her being able to kick, only wiggle for him, like a worm on a hook. No… that imagery is too ugly to be describing her, when she’s so far from ugly. She’s more like a butterfly trapped on a pin, wings fluttering hopelessly, reduced to nothing but beauty, nothing but a little doll for him to play with, tamper and poke fun at just like how she’d done back when he was captured at UA.

He decided pro putting the blindfold on her, perhaps the product of her bullying him in the cell, her jabs at his appearance subconsciously having gotten to him despite himself wanting to dust them off like he did with everything else. Her comments were sharp, and seemed to have the same type of immunity her body had, where his ego, much like himself, hadn’t the thickest of skin. Besides, she was… so painfully out of his league.

It hardly mattered though, now that he would regain all the control.

She laid on her stomach, face mushed against the mattress. He’d removed the pillows and comforter so she’d be placed like a centerpiece on his little operating table. She looked so harmless now, so sweet, especially tied up the way she was, and with those whimpering moans that were simmering to the surface, breaching her sleep, escorted by her wiggling, her delicious tempting little wiggling, begging for Shigaraki to come introduce himself, now with the turned tables.

“Did you really think I was just gonna let it slide?” Her wiggles came to an abrupt holt, breath caught in her throat, making her choke out a curt gasp through the thickness of her makeshift gag. “Did you think you were safe? Like you were simply spitting on a grave. No ghosts coming to haunt you.” She panicked once she felt the bed dip, four fingers sharp in their venture, sweeping up her back, settling around her neck, drawing out painful sudden studded goosebumps, spreading across her skin like wildfire in a field. “Silly little slut.” She squealed at the feel of his warm breath on her cheek, unable to move away, her head halfway buried in the soft mattress, teeth sinking into the cloth in her mouth when his tongue, wet with drool, large and flat, dragged up her already teary cheek. “Boo.”

Her ears were burning, so much blood gushing and rushing and pooling in her head like a storm, she barely registered him drawing back with that maniacal giggle, where with as trademark as it were, there was no doubt where she was or who she was with. Yet, she hadn’t the time to think about it, she hadn’t the time to regret or answer questions she hadn’t even the time to ask, because as her mind was cooking up chaotic whirlwinds of fear, crippling fear despite being crippled enough already, brutal fear that her gut feeling like acid festering and mind reeling in on itself in such vehemence she felt she might just faint, give out like a light in a blizzard, she was given no time before he was talking again, pushing her even further out on the edge she found herself, stepping on her fingers one by one, with no mercy as she dangled above jagged rock that were sure to spear her like an arrow through a dove.

“You were wrong, you know.” She felt his hands trace a careful set of four fingers down the fabric of her shirt, rubbing into her spine, further pushing the breath from out of her lungs. “I’ve fucked before.” He spoke casually, though peppered in between the notes of nonchalance was found the spiked flavors of spiteful mockery, like the mean girl on campus, like how she usually talks, like how she had spoken to him. “But, what I haven’t done is played with someone’s body the way I’m gonna play with yours.” He listened to her whimper, sobs surely to soon wrack through her body, uncontrollably and thoroughly, making her gasp and choke on nothing but air and fear. “I mean, it’s only fair.” She heard the shrug in his voice, that sarcastic sigh and lightheartedness. “You fuck with me, I fuck with you.” This time he growled and she swore she would piss herself with how scared she was.

He was going to kill her, she knew it, she could feel it crawling up and down her body as though mites were hidden in her clothes. She already sensed him peeling off her skin, flaying her with her screaming. And in those seconds, those hopeless seconds, she wished for death, for it to be quick, painless, like simply snuffing out a light. She nearly prayed, squeezing her eyes shut to pray to that God or Devil she never believed in, never needed as badly as she needed them now. She wished for her heart to give out, for the right vein to pop, for a lung to collapse, anything, just for her to be dead before he had the mind to torture her to death.

“Does that sound fun, pet.” And there she broke, waterworks in full effect, no longer simple silent tears but something that had built under pressure like boiling pot of water, bubbling, soon to be blubbering incoherent sobs out into her gag, all to his vengeful amusement.

He watched her for a moment, one longer than he’d probably intended, despite not having view of her eyes, watching the blindfold wet as her eyes leaked at the complete overwhelming loss of hope, lips sucking on the gag those tears that managed to escape and run down to salt her lips.

“So pretty, aren’t you?” He accused, giving her barefoot a squeeze, making her wiggle with what mobility the bonds allowed her, looking handicapped, as though he’d disintegrated both her arms and legs when he’d simply tied them up where they would be stored safely and out of the way until he deemed it okay for her to use them again, where until then… she’d remain his little immobile toy. “Pretty little girl, all tied up.” He giggled, both amused and pleased, leaning down to tug those locks of hair that had curtained her face behind her ear, making the thin wisps at the back of her neck bristle in alarm. “All alone with the big bad ugly villain.” He bit it out with a smirk, and she swore she felt venom drop where he spit the words on her face. “Pretty girl… dressed in such pretty things.” He mused, tugging on the fabric of her silk pajama shirt, his other hand stroking a thumb over himself and his caged member, the beast behind the boxer, the one she was still so completely unaware of. “To hide her rotten core.”

He snickered some more at the notice of how ticklish she was, or perhaps it wasn’t as much a reflex but rather a violent display of her fear, how she kicked, or tried to kick her legs, once his hand with its lanky slender fingers danced a pattern on the sole of her foot.

“They won’t be of much help to you now…”

It’s was a cute display, seeing her struggle in an attempt to swat away his spidering hand, endearing, had him drooling he realized, but didn’t bother to wipe his chin, instead giving into the urge he had to touch what was so temptingly sprawled out before him.

“I bet you think of these as your armor, don’t you?”

All five of his fingers touched down on her shirt, and soon there was no shirt left to separate his dry course fingers from her warm skin. He nearly let out a gasp as he watched how she stayed in place, having not become a pyramid of ash. Her beautiful body still right there, warm glowing skin still touchable, more touchable than anything else.

“Keeping you safe from prying eyes and hands… Not my hands though.”

He could excuse how he hesitated on the fact of him wanting to enjoy himself, wretchedly and thoroughly, gorging in every moment he was gonna make her scream, but… he knew that wasn’t the reason… he was… and he hated to admit it, but… nervous. He had this gorgeous creature trapped and under his thumb and he was nervous? No matter how terrified she was and immobilized it was like she still had the power, just like she had in that prison cell.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that he’d thought about her everyday he was trapped in there. She had said she would see him later yet she never once, not once, came a second time. Why would she lie? Just to fuck with him some more? One last and lasting punch in the face? He had dreamed of it. How many times had he fantasized about doing every possible nasty thing in the book to her, teach her a lesson, make her beg, make her kneel, make her bow before him? But now, having her right there, this frail little girl who wouldn’t have the strength to fight him even without the tight rope holding her down, this little girl who despite being just that had him enthralled for months, still just as hellbent, enslaved, spellbound to make her pay… but that wasn’t it either… making her pay was only half of it, maybe even less… what he wanted, what he truly wanted, was to prove to her that he could have her wrapped around his finger despite being what ugly freak she’d made him out to be, that despite being ugly, he could have a pretty-girl like her melting.

He gave fully into his wishes then, her shorts gone with a touch, leaving her in a precious pair of cotton boxers. A sigh of reverence left him, a shudder running through him. He was expecting red lace or something exotic, something vain and narcissistic meant to enhance or simply show off just how pretty she was. He figured that was what she’d dress in, something sexy, because she had the full body that one believes go hand in hand with hot lingerie, yet… she’d chosen comfort. And why wouldn’t she? When she could make it look like the hottest item his eyes ever had the privilege of seeing.

“Fuck…” He drawled, now with a wanton whine, his hand giving himself a squeeze as his cock was beginning to strain uncomfortably inside the confines of his boxers. “Just look at you…”

He only barely dared touch her, not just out of fear of her disappearing like anything else would, but because he didn’t at all feel as though he had the right to put his hands on something so beautiful.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes.” He stated, still in awe. “Not when they cover up this perfect body.”

She screamed into her gag as he grabbed around her waist, pulling her pliable little body up into a kneeling position, then pulling and arranging some further to have her in the same position, just over his slap this time, with his bulging cock rubbing through the fabric of his briefs up into her still clothed sex, though with both cloths a thin material she felt the abrasive ticklish friction begin to stir something in her lower abdomen despite her fear and no regard to her disgust. And now, provided with the full view of her delectable little frame, her precious tits sprung free and strutting towards him with how her arms were bent in their confinement behind her back, and perky by both the cold wind of his breath and the goosebump-giving anxiety, leveled with his face, looking eager to receive his mouth, perfect nipples for him to suck on, gnaw between the rows of his teeth.

“These perfect tits…” He licked his lips, hands kneading one mound greedily as the other held her steady. “And this…” He placed all five fingers on the fabric of her panties, turning them to ash, all five staying to touch the delicate skin of her sex, feeling her quake, such a good replacement to feeling someone disintegrate. He groaned out a curse, body sagging, slouching at the sight of her exposed bare little private, he hunched over in awe as he ran his fingers through to disappear in the slit of her precious pussy. “This perfect little pussy.”

She wiggled on his digits with a squealing whimpering sob, so alive and warm and soft he could cry with how safe he was beginning to feel, without the fear of touching just a bit too much getting in the way. Although he was feeling the slight sensation of inferiority in the light of her perfection, or maybe even because of it, he decided he’d give a little scare, perhaps as a means of tipping or evening the scales.

“You know, pretty girl…” His other hand, the one not currently preoccupied with cupping her pussy, brutally brazen for the first time, spread its fingers to stroke the dome of her ass, before curling like claws to grab a fist-full of the ample flesh, making her jump and lose balance, resulting in falling flush against his chest all with a muffled cry. Her face mushed against his collar, her wet reddened nose painting tears onto his throat, such a strange type of comfort against his scars. “I’ve never slapped anyone?” He could feel her heartbeat and how it hammered like a race-horse on the track. “Or, no, I’ve slapped plenty, but a slap from me means death, usually.” His hand ascended, wrapping around her throat, all five fingers with hungry-pressured fingertips, guiding her back off his chest to sit properly, though leaning to bite her earlobe, all to feel her rub down on his aching cock some more. “But I slap you and it means pretty marks and pretty screams, doesn’t it?”

He laughed, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to hurt her, or at least not as badly as he had given reason to think.

“Such a fucking pretty girl, aren’t you?” He trailed a path of wet open-mouthed kisses down her neck and between her breasts, gripping her waist as she recoiled back. “With pretty tits.” Breath labored, or hefty with greed and desire. “Pretty girl with a pretty pussy.” He squeezed her sides, as though getting ready to make a ragdoll of her again, pulling her into the desired position. “Let me taste you.”

Her heart hammered like a hammer hitting an anvil, as she was placed on her back, hands crushed beneath her, uncomfortably wrenching in their bonds. Her mind, stuck in its prospect, hadn’t pieced it together, despite having been stripped naked, she still hadn’t given it a thought, hadn’t dared give it a thought, but his comment made the realization coat thickly, drape her and the pressure seemed too much for her mind to take, plummeting into a free-fall. He wasn’t just going to kill her, he was going to rape her first.

Thighs easily pried open for him to settle in between, scooting back on the bed so he could lie down, lower half humping the mattress desperately, imagining having her wrapped around him, but all in good time. She shook more than writhed, seizurely beneath him, with her blushed pussy a beautiful slit so ripe for the taking, quivering at the warming breath he whispered upon the tender flesh. With his hands wrapped around each their ankle he pushed her thighs and legs up and out of the way as to not have her knee him in the head while he feasted.

He listened to her struggling to breathe, her stomach rising and falling sporadically with her sobs, untuned and painful and begging for any kindness he had to spare, he was going to give her exactly that. Kindness.

His chapped lips felt so good it was cruel, abrasive and inescapably delicious, welcomed yet unwelcome by the bucking of her hips as she squealed into her gag, falling prey to more and more hopelessness. His tongue came second, warm and wet and long and strong, sliding in between her folds only to swipe up and flick off at her clit, forcing a shudder to run all the way through her core into the tips of her toes, mind reeling.

“So cute.” He noted the sensitivity with a mocking jeer, the sound simmering on her skin. “I bet a pretty girl like you’ve never been fucked by a guy like me before.” Then his teeth were the ones to make an impact, grazing over her budding clit with how it reached out in search for stimulation, having its wish granted in such a sense forcing her toes to curl. “Come on my ugly face, pretty-girl.” She really couldn’t resist with how his words were tickling on that sensitive spot, and how intent on finding and following that spot that had her coming on done and abusing it, playing with it with his tongue and chapped lips, switching between such smooth soft yet forceful pressure and bristled rough chaffed contact, making her spasm, wanting so desperately to tug her arms loose to push his incessant face off, because she wouldn’t be able to resist it, she was going to come and make an humiliating mess on his tongue just like he wanted, the knot was going to snap and she would be screaming from the force of it.

He smirked with the taste of her essence on his tongue, giving her a couple more torturous kitty-licks that had her brutally recoiling by the oversensitivity he was abusing. It served well as an ego-boost as he was suddenly feeling the urge to take her blindfold off, make her gaze upon who had her wrapped around his finger. What more, he wanted to remove her gag, hear what she had to say to defend herself, what pathetic please she would come with to try and prevent him from going any further.

His mouth sloshed its way up her stomach, hands touching and grabbing and groping with greedy fingers onto anything and everything they got ahold of, feeling up her smooth skin and soft flesh, before having made their way to grab at the blindfold. Her eyes were petrified, blinking rapidly, especially every time his clothed cock bumped into her bare pussy, leaving strings of spit and fine silken cum to hang from between where she parted with the cotton of his pants.

She was thoroughly out of it, delirious, fear-ridden and numbed with pleasure, cotton yet swivel-eyed as he fought to be her focus. He pulled the gag out of her mouth too, wiping his chin before turning the fabric to ash, eyes looking her over all the while.

His tongue rolled over his lips. “Such a pretty face.” He gathered her face between his fingers, blunt fingertips pushing into squishy bloated cheeks. “Even prettier with those tears you fucking crybaby.” It will never get old, the feeling of nothing happening still under all his five fingers. “Even better with my handprint, don’t you think?” It was funny how she didn’t seem to pick up anything of what he was saying. “Or covered in my cum.” Her brows had scrunched so hopelessly close together, whimpers upon sniffles and whiny mewling and hiccupping panting, so pathetic and precious. “So fucking pretty.” He groaned, giving his lips a second wetting with his tongue. “Kiss me, pretty-girl.” He scrunched her lips together some more, leaving her incapable of refusing.

She tasted herself on his tongue, choking on the sweetness as he forced it like a slug down her throat. Her own tongue submissive in nature, staying beneath and out of the way of his. It was a series varying from needy whimpering moans and growls that followed from his throat, poured into her receiving mouth, giving nothing but weak whines in return. His one free hand, the other one still holding a firm grip onto her chin and cheeks, continued in its hungry exploration, grabbing with an almost childlike curious freedom, leaving painful marks in their wake, having her yelp against his willful lips, which smirk grew upon every inch of reaction she fed him, until pulling away in a haze, panting, with a new little wish he was going to have her be the star of.

“Let me fuck that pretty face.”

She hadn’t the time, nor the mind, to form any protest, reduced to mere whimpering as he pulled her back into a kneeling position, conjoined thighs and legs folded beneath and supporting her ass, still with her arms tied snuggly and unbudgingly behind her back, made to watch him fiddle with the band to his sweats, pulling them below his hips and falling to his thighs, displaying his surprisingly clean boxers and not so surprising hardness. Cock throbbing within its confines, fighting desperately to come free. His hand pulling his boxers down and, cock springing loose, slapping against his abdomen, standing long and hard, tip blushed red and angry, a bead of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit.

“Open up, lick it up.”

She’d been lost in taking in the sheer size of him, girth thick and threatening, looking bigger than what she could wrap her hand around, her stomach twisting in tension and unease. Too caught up in imagine it ripping her apart than realizing how he was going to fit it into her mouth first.

Her eyes widened upon the thought, lips slightly apart in horror, bottom-lip quivering. “Come on, pretty-girl.” One hand tugged on his shaft, the other gripped her face, protruding nails to sink into her jaw, prying her mouth father apart to accommodate his size.

She whined at the taste of him, arms struggling behind her back, knees shuffling wider apart to support herself as he pushed on further, fingernails still digging into her soft cheeks, making her lips pucker into a soft welcoming oval. He liked the way her brows furrowed into that beautiful look of plead that had his balls aching where they hung, soon to be pressed up against her soft skin, smothering her chin. He also enjoyed how her whimpers had turned to delicious little vibrations of his cock, drumming alongside his length, such pretty friction.

“Come on, take all of me.” He licked his lips as he urged, other hand coming to caress the back of her skull, gathering her pretty locks between his fingers, abandoning all regard to how she should be turning to nothing but dust molecules instead of being a nice warm soft wet pleasure hole for him. His usually small scrutinizing scarlet eyes turning moon-wide with lustful frenzy. Voice ragged as he clawed at her scalp to obey him, no thought to her whining in protest. “You can do better.” His tip met with the back of her throat and her whine turned more desperate, nearly a scream, but he couldn’t care, not with the memory of her talking to him like he was some pussy-bitch, he was going to show her who the bitch and who the boss was. “Such a pretty little thing with such a nasty filthy ugly fucking mouth.” He spit through grit teeth, begging to fuck the back of her throat, having her gagging on him, hopeless in search for breath. “A mouth like that is only good for one thing.” He gave a few more painfully deep ruts, having her eyes roll back at the loss of breath, before ripping loose again. “Same goes for that pussy.”

“No, no.” She scrambled on the bed, trying to get away, trying to rip free, so hopeless he should have felt bad, but couldn’t bring himself to the feeling as he sat there and laughed, eyes wild, dick prospering, hand pumping his length to the sight of her.

He followed her pathetic struggling little shame, climbing on top of her. The panic swallowed her again, forcing a overwhelmed rush of sobs to come spluttering and blubbering and screaming from her little shape caught beneath him. “Such a little slut.” His fingers were at once groping her pussy, diving between her folds to rub her slit and clit. “Still so wet, are you excited?” She turned her head away as she struggled, eyes squeezed shut. “Aw, pretending it’s not me.” He snickered. “Good luck.”

Offended, he decided against making it pleasant for her, thinking she deserved as little sympathy from him as she had showed him, but his brutal actions slowed at the feel of the pressure around his finger when he’d pushed it inside her.

“So tight.” He stated, shocked as he tried swirling the digit inside, to feel the walls giving little wiggle-room to do so. She winced as he hooked, a heavy breathy shrill type of wince, as though he was pulling a knife from her gut.

He left the finger there, much to her discomfort.

“That comment…” He started, working her tightness as much as he could, still with only one finger. “When we first met.” His other hand gathered her face again, forcing her to look at him as he leaned down, resting his forehead on hers, wanting to see those eyes as he got confirmation on his suspicion. “You said you push people away… that you were a… repellant.” Her breathing hitched as she sniveled like a little girl who scraped her knee. “Did that count for this as well?”

He hadn’t yet let the smile stretch on his face, but the chiding smirk started to grow as the answer was clearly displayed all over her face and by the telltale feeling his finger shoved inside her way too tight hole told him.

“Aww, is the pretty little girl a virgin?” He gave her no inch of regret, even with the fact clear as day. Having worked her tightness well enough to cram another bony-knuckled finger inside her, making her cry out. “Don’t worry, that pretty pussy is in good hands.”

She owed him, this way they would be even. Besides, he wasn’t making it completely miserable for her either. Her face might be telling one story of torment, but her drooling pussy was telling him something utterly different. Perhaps it was due to her amateur ability to hold on, but she was soon creaming all over his fingers, body spasming in tired bliss, eyes fluttering for a moment or two, trying to grasp what the fuck was happening. It was adorable.

“I think my little slut is ready.”

She murmured a sigh, energy spent on crying and struggling and coming twice already, all she could do was moan when his cockhead broke through her tight little weeping hole. He had to moan as well at the snug hug her pussy squeezed and seized him with, biting roughly into his bottom lip, tooth snaggling in the dip of his scar. Brows raised in bliss, scrunched in an eruption, as he sunk deeper and deeper into her tight convulsing cunt, preciously clutching around him, fluttering upon the fulfilling snug fit that had her toes cramping in their curled state, eyes zoning out, unable to focus, mouth blubbering and chewing on incoherent sentences, only capable on slurring out muddled moans and wet gasps as he fucked slowly into, lolling his hips forward carefully, holding onto the mouthwatering feeling of her warmth around him.

He pushed his thumb into her clit, which had her back arching and moan ripped from her throat before she settled down into the mattress again, welcoming the stimulation where she was crippled to preventit. “Your pretty pussy loves being taken by my disgusting cock, doesn’t it?” She could only hum and croon in reply, as he hit the very back, pushing into her cervix with a rather soft nudge, having her result to sucking on her bottom-lip, purring whines like a little kitten taking pleasure from their master. “I hear it in your pretty moans.”

He was no longer biting out the word pretty as though it were a curse or venom on his tongue. It sounded more like praise than anything, something akin to awe, pride even, smug for having it all under his thumb, burying his cock inside the word, for being the one to have reduced such a pretty thing to such a pretty mess, all for him, all by him, making her all his.

She made a shuddering gasp, moaning into his mouth as he leaned down. “Oh, is the pretty girl gonna cum all over my disgusting cock.” He cooed, all five fingers placed on her cheek when cupping it to have those gorgeous opium-blown eyes look at him when she came undone, for him to find such dangerous satisfaction in seeing her conquered beneath him, finding it to be the last push to send him off his own edge as well. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in that pretty pussy.”

He made to have that final bone-crushing kiss, faces mushed together in a sloppy mess of wet slippery tongues and drool, moaning and groaning, inhaling each-other.

Reduced to mere gasping and panting. Cock, having for the first time felt the fulfilling pleasure of blowing inside the warm comfort of a precious goddess, feeling her gush and come all over him in the near split-second, feeling her clench and tighten around him like a vice, robbing and ringing and milking him for every drop he was worth. He gave some more pumps, pushing deep within her, felt a shudder run down the underside of his cock, overstimulated and satisfied for the first time.

Still coming down from his high, he made to take in her shape and state.

He hadn’t really fantasized she’d be so pliant after being fucked, but looking at her now, he couldn’t imagine her any other way, anything more right then her glossy sweat-slicked body spasming in aftershocks of her orgasms, laid so preciously snug against his chest, thighs visibly shaking with still small feeble stuttering moans slipping from her lips in blubbers. He wasn’t too far from the same state himself, having had only barely the mind before exhaustion rendered his limbs too heavy for moving, to untie the knots and rearrange them into something more comfortable. He decided tying her wrists together in front of her to be better, legs free but too tired and dumbed-out to struggle.

He looked at her drowsy state with a smile, betting he could make such a grateful little pet out of her, and if not, then scramble her mind through so many cruel methods, and make do with a brainless toy instead. But, looking down at that blissed-out hopeless look on her face and that dainty defenseless body he’d manipulated and forced to its knees, he couldn’t really see how any cruel methods would be needed.

It seemed to him that all she needed was cock, a couple of orgasms forced from her pent-up body, a little relief. The little brat was just a bit grouchy and grumpy because she hadn’t had her pussy played with. He could relate, he also gets frustrated when not getting his dick wet for a while. She was just begging for someone to come handle her and that’s all there was to it. Just look at her now, so sweet and spent, lying in his arms.

Come to think of it, he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be needing to apply any harsh treatments in taming her, she just needed to be tied up and made to feel just how good being taken care of feels until she accepted it willingly. And if and when she decides on being bratty, he’ll have plenty of methods of shutting that trap right up, or in making her scream.

TIP-JAR

#yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shiggy #yandere lov #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere bnha #yandere mha #Shigaraki #my hero academia shigaraki #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki tomura #shiggy #tomura shigaraki #tomurashigaraki #TOMURA #bnha tomura #tomura imagine #tomura smut #boku no hero academia tomura #tomura x y/n #tomura x reader #shigaraki x you #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki fanfiction

[akaashisupremacy]

The Human Cost

Summary: What were you and Chuuya willing to trade for the lives you want to live? 

M. Fandom Masterlist || Chuuya Nakahara x reader

Genre: angst, exes to ??, wc: <1000

“You can just kill me now.” you calmly look at Chuuya Nakahara.

His eyes are bright and angry, and his knife is pointed at your neck. Your back is tensely pressed against a large tree. Even after years have passed, you can tell he hasn’t forgiven you for leaving him.

“We’ll chalk it up as retribution for all the pain I caused you.” you murmur, shifting against the tree.

“You never loved me. You lied.” he hisses. Even under the cover of the night’s darkness, you can see his eyes glint with anger.

“Chuuya, of course I did.” you furrow your brows indignantly. You hated it when he questioned your feelings for him. “You’re the reason I stayed as long as I did with the Port Mafia. I’ve been wanting to leave for ages… but that meant I couldn’t come home to you anymore so I stayed.”

His expression softens a bit, and his knife withdraws from your throat by an inch.

“Being in the Port Mafia gave you so much pride. I joined because I wanted you to be proud of me, too. That and I wanted to be able to live away from the slums.” you dust yourself quietly, “but it wasn’t for me. It was too much meaningless violence.”

You shudder as you recall your time under Koyo Ozaki, who specialized in torture tactics. Koyo was not only ruthless, she was also great at drilling hopelessness to people born in the shadows such as yourself.

Once you were in the mafia, you couldn’t quit unless you were dead. Your only protection came from joining the Armed Detective Agency. Defectors like you and Dazai are still considered traitors. However, you were left alone to keep peace with the agency.

“Then why did you have to leave me?” Chuuya is yelling on top of his lungs while punching the bark beside you. 

You can hear the anger and hurt ringing in his voice. He doesn’t bother asking about your loyalty to the mafia. This is personal.

His fists are balled up so tight his nails dug so deep into his palm. You are afraid he would cut himself.

Chuuya doesn’t like to be seen crying. You know that if you weren’t looking at him, his face would be stained with tears.

You shake your head and smile sadly. There was no way for you to leave the Mafia and still be one of their executives. They would either turn against Chuuya or go after you.

“You’re the one regret I had about leaving.” you sigh in a long exhale, “If there was a way for the both of us to start all over, away from all this mess, where we can like our jobs and live comfortably, I would trade anything for it.”

You pressed emphasis on your last words. Anything. You’d give anything to have it all.

Chuuya sheaths his knife and walks away. He stands on the other side of the tree, somewhat unwilling to leave just yet.

You turn to him to be able to see his profile at the corner of your eye. “Half my purpose is to be in the Detective Agency, and the other half is to be with you. I am content and almost happy right now. But I don’t feel complete—not sure if I ever will, because you’re not with me.”

Chuuya’s anger dissipates. He looks conflicted and sad. He struggles to find his words.

“Do you still think of me often?” he whispers so softly you barely hear him.

“All the time,” your fingers reach out to touch his hand. Chuuya doesn’t pull away nor does he grab you, “Whenever I’m home, I think about what it would be like to have you there and what you would be doing in your home. I try to imagine what it’s like to know about your day, to sleep in the same room, to eat the same food…”

It takes all his self-control not to look at you.

Warm tears start sliding down your face. You miss Chuuya the most when you’re away from work. When you hear Chuuya hold back a sob, you know he feels the same, too.

“I don’t regret being able to join the agency.” you exhale, “The cost was just so high. The cost was you.”

You close your eyes and let your tears fall.  

You’re both quiet for a moment. Each trying to catch your own breath and dry your tears. Chuuya’s fingers are still loosely interlaced with yours.

“Can I ask if you are seeing someone else?” It’s your turn to ask the questions.

“Yes, I am.” he replies.

You frown. You knew the answer but you wanted to hear it from him.

“It’s not...it’s not serious, just for companionship and my physical needs.” he follows up, instantly regretting your reaction.

“Can't be all that different.” you snort, half-fishing. You wait to see what he says about you.

“It's more exhilarating with you,” he assured firmly, “Everything feels more intense and nerve-wrecking with you, as if life is suddenly on steroids.”

Suddenly you feel the warmth of his finger disappear from your hand. You turn around to find that Chuuya has disappeared into the night before you can grab him with your arms.

And now you feel even more alone.

-----------------------------------------------------------

I’m thinking of turning this into a series. Comment or DM if you’d like to be added to the taglist

Taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan

Read another Chuuya fic here. 

#bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x y/n #chuuya nakahara x you #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara x y/n #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x reader #chuuya scenarios #chuuya angst #chuuya x you #nakahara chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya x you #nakahara chuuya x y/n #chuuya nakahara fanfic #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dog #bsd scenarios

[harry-writings]

Drive Me Wild

- where Harry has a problem expressing emotions, and Y/n talks too much

Masterlist 

A/N: mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, indications of depression, and a very mild form of smut (if we can really call it that)

Song mentioned: Invisible String by Taylor Swift 

-

December 23, 2016

“Do you even have feelings for me?”

Celeste was sitting across the booth at their local diner, a half-empty mug of hot chocolate left stale at the table top, her eyes wet and cold just like the December she’d been trying so desperately to feel warm in.

Harry had his hands held together in front of him, his eyes void and stare blank as his mind played back to all the times he’d given his all to her. Sure, he didn’t always do it with a smile on his face or with lovestruck eyes, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t happy.

And how could she not see it? How could she not feel it? He didn’t even bother spending his time with anybody else because he didn’t like anybody else. She was his only company, his only kiss, his only friend.

How was that not enough?

“What would make you think that I don’t?”

She laughed, right in his face, like it wasn’t enough to tear him apart.

“You’re kidding me, right?” She looked serious then, her face fallen and lips frowned. He felt stupid because he must have done something he couldn’t remember, or something to blindly hurt her feelings, yet he had no idea what it was. They were doing so good. “Do you even know how you look at me? Like I’m not even here. Like I’m boring you half to death. I can’t even tell what you’re feeling right now.”

Broken, sad, confused. He wanted to tell her that — he really did — but what would it have mattered? He’d still have that same meaningless stare and that same emptiness that had brought them to that very moment. She wouldn’t believe him even if she wanted to.

And it shouldn’t have broken him as much as it did, considering they weren’t even dating — just testing the waters, feeling each other out, wondering if their dreams could ever belong in their reality — but it hurt him just the same. She was the closest thing to a girlfriend Harry ever had, after all.

“Talking to you is like — it’s like talking to a wall. You’re just… there.”

She stopped to look at him more intentionally then — maybe she had missed something all along. Maybe, there was something he did to show the smallest of his emotions, like a shift in his eye, a pitch in his breath, a quiver of his lip.

But just like every other time, there was nothing. He was incurably empty.

“I think you’ve laughed at something I’ve said maybe, five times?” She let out a breathy chuckle because the tension was so thick she could hardly keep herself together, and she was so nervous, and he was so unpredictable. “And then you have this way with your words where, like you say certain things to beat around the bush about how you truly feel about me, and then it makes me wonder if it’s because you don’t even feel that way at all.”

He wanted to argue with her so bad. He wanted so badly to prove to her how wrong she was but how could he have, when she was so right?

Nobody had ever taught him how to do that — the relationships, the emotions, the vulnerability that came with being human. He couldn’t even recall a single time his parents had laughed at something he had said — couldn’t recall his parents ever having friends over, having date nights, even smiling at one another.

And to make matters worse, he was an only child. He was constantly around the voidance of his parents, the empty conversations, the pit of silences — really, that was all he had ever known. And later, that was what he grew into.

And if he could have changed it, he would have. But how does one go from keeping it all inside, to letting it all out?

He’s tried it all — emptying bottles of wine, smoking down blunts, shoving pills down his throat — and still couldn’t he laugh alongside himself, smile at memories that haven’t let him go, pour his heart out to strangers.

That wasn’t him. That wasn't who he was supposed to be, no matter how hard he tried to be that person for her.

But again, why wasn’t that enough?

“But I’m here, aren’t I?”

Celeste looked at him like it was the last time she was ever going to. And he knew.

“I don’t think you want to be.”

-

Y/n is utterly incapable of leaving Harry alone.

And Harry’s always alone, Y/n finds. Between every meeting and during every lunch hour, Harry always has a space beside him that’s just as empty and vacant as he is — well, just as empty and vacant as he comes off — and she assumes that’s why nobody’s ever been willing to take it.

But Y/n finds herself beside him more than she finds herself anywhere else.

Everyday when the clock hits twelve and lunch hour begins, Y/n sits in the chair right beside his and talks to him about anything and everything she can think of — the books she’s read, her childhood memories, the dreams she had the previous night — because he shouldn’t be left all alone the way he’s been so used to.

He doesn’t deserve it. He isn’t just a heartless, lifeless man passing through his days and night without feeling anything, he’s so much more than that — so much more than his blank stares, his vacant expressions, and his linear lips.

There’s something so unexplainably mesmerizing and compelling about him, she can’t help but wonder how nobody else has felt it. It’s magnetic, the way he tells the world everything it needs to know by the look and glimmer in his eye.

It’s all there, everything is there, yet nobody sees it except for her.

It’s as if the universe is telling her that right beside him is where she belongs. Nobody else has claimed that spot, after all, and it’s the only place that feels so right to her.

She feels as if it was always waiting for her, long before twelve o’clock, long before they had even met.

-

August 7, 2016

“Do you know how embarrassing it is?”

Y/n was sat on her kitchen counter in nothing but underwear and an oversized white t-shirt, sobbing and shaking upon the granet, her elbows on her bent knees so her arms were covering her mascara-run face — too ashamed to show herself to the world that’ll only find its way to break her down again.

Cooper was sitting on the barstool just three feet in front of her, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, his tie loose to his collarbones, sleeves rolled up against his elbows, eyes defeated yet raging with resentment.

She had never seen him quite like that — so vengeful and so unforgiving. She was so unloved, she saw it in everything he did that night — from telling her to shut up in front of his friends, to making her take a taxi home because nobody could stand the sound of her voice anymore.

The love of her life didn’t even want to take her home, and that was all she needed to know that everything she had ever held onto was everything that needed to be let go of.

“Darling… it has got to stop at some point. I know it’s because you’re nervous but you don’t do anything to change it.”

But why does she have to have to?

That’s all she wanted to know — all she wanted to scream at him at that moment in time but god forbid she had anything to say to him anymore.

And how many more times did she have to keep wasting her breath trying to convince him that she couldn’t help it no matter how hard she tried — the constant talking, the rambling, the scrambling to tell stories, the muttering in awkward silences.

It was her way of calming down her nerves in new environments she could never seem to adapt to — her way of dealing with groups of unfamiliar faces, her way of coping with the rest of the world.

And it seemed as though no matter where she went, there was no place for her. She constantly felt stuck in someone’s way, felt like she was always blocking the entrance, and no matter how many times she tried to find a corner to shelter herself in, there were people still climbing over her to go their own way, and she was always left behind, beaten to the ground.

She just wanted to catch up so badly, but only did it make her fall backwards, time after time again. Yet she still did it, time after time again.

So, she just kept crying, too embarrassed to look at him, too afraid to speak, too hurt to know that she could never forgive him no matter how hard she tried.

“Your habits become a problem when they negatively affect everybody else around you. Y/n, you barely have friends, you can’t make friends with mine, all because you don’t let anybody else talk.”

And what an over-exaggeration. Of course she let other people have a chance to respond and have side conversations… just maybe not as often as they would have liked. But it wasn’t extreme enough where the only conversations she carried were one-sided — not that she had noticed.

“I used to love you for it but lately it’s just been — it’s been too much. I can hardly stand it anymore. Don’t know how to say it without making you cry.”

There was no way to.

The babbling, the rambling, the talking… it was all in her nature. If somebody didn’t like it, then they didn’t like her, and it was just as simple as that.

There was no way around it — there was no magic serum, no prescription drug, no cure for over-talking. And there were days, endless days, that she felt cursed, because why is the one thing that’s so wrong about her the one thing she can’t fix?

But again, why would she have to?

“So — so all the times you kissed me whenever I started going on tangents wasn’t because you loved me or because you wanted to, it was because you didn’t know how else to shut me up, right? You didn’t want to have to hear me anymore. Didn’t even want to hear me cry.”

He didn’t have to answer her because she already knew the answer herself. What she once thought was manifested from pure love and endearment was just as toxic and conniving as everything else she’d ever put her hands on.

Why couldn’t she just be enough?

She refuses to move her hands away from her face.

“You never loved me.” Y/n whispered beneath the sobs that shook through her already broken soul. “That’s the worst part.”  

-

Harry doesn’t like being alone.

He never has, but he’d been able to tolerate it through the years. He didn’t have much of a choice — forced to shove the feeling down to the very depth of his core and carry it around with him until it faded to a subtle numbness that pricked against his chest with every move he made.

Loneliness now, though, has taken on an entirely different meaning that Harry can’t tolerate no matter how hard he tries. Because now, loneliness means Y/n isn’t beside him, and he despises being away from her.

There’s something about her that’s unexplainably addicting, like a drug he can’t get enough of even when it’s soaking in his veins and taking over every one of his senses — one that gives him withdrawals that make him so far gone he can barely stand on his own two feet.

She’s unlike anybody he’s ever met.

Because though she seems to put herself out for the world to see, there is so much she keeps hidden. He can see it in her eyes — all the darkness and pain that’s been seeped within them, and nobody else has ever seemed to notice, because nobody else seems to care.

But he does. God, how much does he care, how much does he want to curse every person in existence for not seeing how deserving she is to be happy. It’s all she deserves.

And he’s convinced that the universe created her solely for him, because everyday when the clock strikes twelve and lunch hour begins, he’s reminded that she doesn’t choose anybody else — it reminds him that she chooses him, every single day, in a room full of people that are so much more approachable.

She keeps choosing him because somewhere deep down, he makes her happy. And he’ll keep choosing her, too, long after twelve o’clock.

-

Harry’s having a bad day.

Since the moment he blinked his eyes open, every little thing has been driving him absolutely mad — from somebody honking their horn at another driver (that wasn’t even him), to the way Jeremy asked him to change one of the slides for his upcoming presentation (even though he told him as nicely as he possibly could), everything was getting under his skin and onto his nerves like a newborn leech.

And what’s even worse is that Y/n is aggravating him when normally, he dreads the final minutes of lunch hour because it means they’re going to have to part ways and only see each other at team meetings until it’s time for them to go home.

They’ve been friends for two years and not once has Y/n ever made his leg bounce with impatience, or had him fiddle with his glasses out of anxiousness, or made his jaw clench with annoyance, until today.

It’s only twenty minutes past twelve and Harry is begging for death.

“You see, I didn’t know it at the time, though! I was twelve and the chaperones weren’t around to watch what I was doing. I saw the duck come towards me and for some reason, I really wanted to know what its beak felt like. I didn’t think it would actually bite me, I wasn’t food!”

And normally, he’d nod his head or give her some sort of indication that he was paying attention to her because he always was, but he hasn’t even so much as lifted his head from above his food since she started talking.

“And it hurt! Proper cried and screamed because it was so much worse than I thought it would be. Ducks are evil little things. I remember one time me and my mum were at the park having a picnic when a duck came flying by and almost hitting her right in the —”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Silence.

He shouldn’t be talking to her like this, he knows that, but right now, he can’t seem to dwell on the consequences that’ll surely come after this. This headspace he’s in is so unforgiving, it somehow convinces him that Y/n never talking to him again is exactly what he wants, when it’s so far from it.

This bitterness that’s consuming him is only swallowing him down for today, it’s temporary, he knows this because it’s happened to him before. It makes him act instinctively and selfishly, like he’d tear limb from limb if he doesn’t get what he wants in that very moment in time.

He doesn’t care who he hurts in the process, even if who he hurts is the only person he cares about.

“W — what?”

She knows what she heard, she’s heard it so many times before, she just can’t believe Harry was the one who said it.

Never, in a million years, would she have believed he would ever be the person to make her feel this way — so heartbroken, so lost, so confused. He’s always been so different with her, in ways she couldn’t explain, and it always made her feel worthy of something so good.

It never crossed her mind that he’d betray her like this, she never saw that in him — she never saw him being angry at her, or resenting her, or disliking her until this very moment, as he’s staring right through her, like she doesn’t even exist.

“Would appreciate it if you left me alone for today.”

There’s a thud in her chest that makes her blood run cold and her insides freeze with sadness. And there’s this look on her face that makes Harry want to take it all back, and he almost does, but he doesn’t.

She’s lived twenty four years of misery, yet never has she felt so hurt, because never has she loved so hard.

“Oh, o — okay.” She mutters with a faltered voice, nodding her head through unshed tears.

There’s forty minutes left of lunch hour and the only friend she has doesn’t even want her here. She has nowhere else to go.

But she leaves anyway.

-

Y/n locks herself in her room that night.

It’s a bad habit she made out of herself when she was a teenager — where she’d lock herself up, shut herself out from the world, and keep herself quiet until she’s forced to leave her house again.

She keeps the lights off and sits in the corner in silence, keeping herself awake by repeating self-loathing mantras in her head — like a form of punishment only she is deserving of.

She cries, but that’s all she allows herself to do.

-

Harry doesn’t sleep that night.

He lays in the dark and just stares up at the ceiling, wondering how he let himself do what he’s done.

Y/n means everything to him, whether she knows it or not, she’s the only thing he has. There’s nothing left in this world for him to hold onto, except for her, and he still managed to let her go.

Tomorrow, he wants to tell her he loves her, because he does. But that’s just another form of selfishness he can’t put onto her again.

He won’t allow himself to, though that’s all he wants to do.

-

Y/n doesn’t show up for lunch hour the next day. 

And Harry’s never felt so alone.

-

Harry sees her three hours later organizing files in Jeremy’s office.

Suddenly, his hands are slicked with sweat and his fingers shake with nervousness. He feels as if the world has stopped turning because what he chooses to say determines whether or not he could ever have her the way he so desperately needs her.

He wipes his palms against his pants, gathering his breath and his thoughts before he slowly creeps himself up behind her — terrified that if he makes one wrong move, she’ll walk away from him again.

He really wouldn’t be able to survive it if she did.

“Y/n.” Harry greets her hesitantly, knowing in the pit of his stomach that what he’s done was so much worse than he thought because she doesn’t even acknowledge him —  doesn’t even look at him — when that’s all she ever used to do. “Can I have a word with you?”

Still, she doesn’t look up at him. She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t even want him looking at her and she would tell him that if she were still talking to him, but she isn’t. She’s just going to keep biting her tongue until it falls off and she has no choice but to swallow it down whole.

Harry’s heart breaks when all he’s met with is her silence.

This isn’t her, and this isn’t what he wants.

His hand reaches down to her wrist, holding onto it so lightly, Y/n almost doesn’t feel it. Her movements halt.

He’s never touched her before.

“Please.”

Her eyes follow the path to where they’re connected, watching as Harry’s thumb traces the smallest of circles against her skin. And as she stares down so pathetically, she feels Harry’s eyes casted exactly where hers are, too, wondering when he’s going to have to let go.

And though his touch is mending the broken bones within her, his words cut like knives, and she’s still bleeding out so helplessly.

She rips her wrist out of his grasp, her eyes now just as far away from him as before. It happened so fast, Harry wonders if he imagined the whole thing.

“Busy.”

He waits for her to say something else — waits for her to curse him out, to yell and scream and rant to him about how much she hates every last bit of him because anything is better than this. But again, he’s left with nothing.

His world falls apart.

“One word? That’s all you give me?”

Her eyes flood with tears.

“That’s all you asked for.”

He slams the side of his fist against the shelf in defeat, so incredibly angry with himself that he can hardly stand on his own two feet without wanting to beat himself down. She’s crying and avoiding him like he���s the last person she ever wants to see, and the worst part is that he can’t even blame her for it.

He has half the mind to walk away and never look back because she doesn’t deserve this; wants to spare her the heartache and let her find somebody that is so much better than he is — somebody who can look at her like they want her to be there, somebody who can smile at her, somebody who can laugh with her.

He can’t give her any of that because that’s not the kind of guy he is, but he doesn’t have that kind of heart. He can’t let her go because deep down he knows she loves him, too, and what would it make him if he were to destroy something so beautiful before it’s even started?

“Look, if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. All I’m asking is that you listen to me, please. Y/n, you know I didn’t mean it.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I like you so much.”

Y/n looks back at him now, her eyes still as wet and distant as before, and it tears him apart.

She looks into his eyes because all of her answers are there — they always are — and she can tell this has taken a toll on him the same way it has her. Even with his voice being so stagnant, and his face being so cold, he’s falling apart.

She wishes that was enough.

She looks away from him again.

And Harry’s at a loss. He doesn’t know what else to do to convince her how much he means it — how much he really is sorry and how badly he wants her. He’s so bad with words and so bad with expressing himself that he doesn’t know what he can and can’t do to get her to forgive him.

So, he does the only thing that feels right.

He grabs a hold of her arm and spins her around until her chest is against his, and before she has the chance to say anything to him, and before he can talk himself out of it, he kisses her.

His hands are intertwined with hers as he gives her everything he has. He’s absolutely relentless but it’s nothing short of passionate and desperate, longing for her even when she’s right up against him.

It’s better than either of them could have ever expected it to be.

He’s the first to pull away, and Y/n is let completely and utterly lovestruck.

-

“You can take it back!”

Harry looks up from his notebook with furrowed eyebrows and curious eyes, watching as Y/n slams the door shut behind her before standing at the head of the table with her arms fisted at her sides, nervously biting on her bottom lip and tapping her foot with anticipation — all the while keeping her composure as firm and collected as possible.

“Pardon?”

“The kiss.”

She waits for him to say something about it — anything about it — maybe even scoff or gag a little at the reminder. But alas, he gives her nothing but empty stares and emotionless lips.

“You can take it back, if you want to. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

And of course, she’s lying.

It would really break her heart in two if Harry felt that what happened yesterday was a mistake — that the feelings only fit in that one particular scene, that he was just caught up in the moment and didn’t know how else to apologize.

She had been waiting a lifetime for that sort of magic to be casted onto her — the kind of magic that has her feeling like she’s been granted everything she has ever wanted and more than she could ever ask for. And it feels so surreal that he kissed her that her head keeps swooning with hopes and dreams of everything that could possibly lay between them.

But if he isn’t laying in bed, desperately wishing for the same things she is, she needs to know before it’s too late.

“Oh.” Harry purses his lips, looking back down at his notebook as if she hadn’t said anything at all. “No, thank you.”

Y/n’s mouth drops ever so slightly before she shuts it closed again, flaring her nose as she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She had been preparing everything she was going to say for every possible scenario, yet here she is, racking her brain trying to come up with how to respond to such an ambiguous yet lucid answer.

And now he won’t even look at her, his undivided attention set upon the pen and paper below him as he writes the ideas for his next project, like it was the most casual and most nonchalant conversation he had ever been in.

“Was that all, love?”

Y/n blinks at him and tilts her head to the side, dazed in her confusion and lost at his choice of words.

Love. He called me love. He’s never called me that before.

But when his eyes sneak back up to hers, she shakes her head as if to pull herself together. She didn’t sacrifice last night’s sleep just to get lost in those very eyes — she needs to know where he stands with her before she takes another leap of faith, though all she wants to do is jump right into the same arms that were holding her so closely yesterday.

“I’m giving you a chance to opt out.”

Harry feels his chest fall to the pit of his stomach.

He straightens himself up upon the chair, his shoulders tensing and his fingers stiffening around his pen, feeling uneasy because does she want him to opt out? Does she want him to take back the kiss that’s been lingering on his lips for far too long now?

And he just looks at her, desperate for her to tell him how badly she wants him to do it again — tell him how badly her lips are aching without the feel of his and how badly she wants him to kiss at them until they’re numb and no longer her own, because he’d do it. He’d do it in a heartbeat if she asked with those pretty eyes of hers, with that stutter and that stumble over her words that never fail to make his heart give out.

And if that just becomes another long-lost dream in his never-ending curse of a life, it will do him in deeper than any of the trenches that have been dug out from within him — deeper than any cut anybody’s ever made on him because right now, in this moment in his life, she’s all he has.

“This is the one and only time I will let you break this off without me babbling about how perfect we could be together and how serious I am about you. Because it’s not going to stop — this rambling thing that I do — and I just want you to know that that’s what makes me who I am and it’s not going to stop for you or for anybody else. And so if it annoys you, if it bothers you and embarrasses you, I’m giving you the chance to leave before either of us get hurt and we can pretend nothing’s ever happened between us.”

She thinks we’d be perfect together.

That’s all his brain can process despite everything else that came with it — all that’s stuck in his brain and tightening at his chest.

He thinks they would be, too, when he really thinks about it. She gets lost in stories he lives so vicariously through, and he gets lost in feelings she lives so curiously in — submerging herself between the lines, reading what lies so dangerously beneath him. And nothing sounds better to him than spending every second of his day relishing in that feeling of intimacy they had both been deprived of for so long.

So how dare he? How dare he make her feel so insecure, so unworthy and so undeserving, to be standing here defending everything that makes her who she is when he’s so captivated by it all? And why is it so fucking hard for him to just tell her?

He feels the corners of his lips dip slightly to his chin, but that’s all he can manage to do. He hopes she can see it, and he hopes that it’s enough.

“I’d rather not.”

She frowns herself, looking down to her feet, feeling slightly ashamed for putting him on the spot like this. But what else was she to do? She couldn’t risk getting her heart beaten and bruised because of her stupid mouth all over again.

“But I’ve annoyed you before.” Y/n mutters between a pout, her foot kicking softly at the ground, wishing she didn’t let his words cut her as deeply as they did. “And like I said, it’s not going to stop. I’m still going to want to be around you and talk to you and keep you company and I don’t know what I would do if later down the line you decide you’ve heard enough of me and can’t handle the way I deal with my feelings anymore.”

But he wants all of that, too, more than he’s wanted anything else in his entire life. He wants her next to him during lunch hour talking about her days and her nights, wants her midnight pillow talks, wants her to be the only company in his cold and vacant home.

He just wants her to see it, wants her to feel it, just as much as he does.

“That was different.” He tries to sound more convincing for her sake, but he fails so miserably it hurts.

Talking to you is like talking to a wall — that’s all he can hear beneath his words and it makes him want to give up on the conversation because he’s afraid it’ll only bring her down more, but he can’t leave her like this. Besides, it’s Y/n. And for reasons so unknown, she understands him.

“I wasn’t aware of your importance.”

“My importance?” She scrunches her nose, squinting her eyes. “My importance to what?”

“To me.”

Y/n’s eyes widen in disbelief and she sucks in a breath so deep, it settles in her chest and she swears her heart is on the verge of flatlining.

“To you, right. To you. Because I’m — because I’m important to you...” she mumbles mainly to herself, so quietly and so breathlessly before it dies down on her tongue — the sight of Harry taking off his glasses and throwing them onto the table making her knees buckle and head spin with emotions she’s never felt before.

He’s got this glimmer in his eye and a faint smile painted on his lips and she really can’t breathe, now, as he makes his way towards her.

This is the first time she has ever seen him smile, and though it is as soft and small as any other she’s ever seen — so soft and small, she would have missed it if it were on anybody else — she’s the reason it’s there, and it’s a sight she wouldn’t dare take her eyes off of.

He stands before her now, his fingers reaching up to cup the blush of her cheeks, eyes following the shapes he traces with his thumb against her skin. And though his smile has faded to nothing and he looks as serious as ever before, he doesn’t look away from her for even a second.

And that’s enough.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

She flutters her eyes closed upon his words, knowing this moment is going to end all too soon, and she doesn’t have the heart to say goodbye to it yet.

She wants to remember this feeling for when she has to.

“No, no. That was all.”

He ducks his head and nudges his nose gently against hers before pulling away to pull her back into reality, just for a moment — just long enough for him to know that she isn’t holding herself back from him.

“And I’ve put your worries to rest?”

Oh, how her worries have subsided to nothing but a stomach full of butterflies and a chest of pulled heartstrings.

Nobody has ever made her so sure of anything, the way Harry makes her so sure of him.

“Yeah, I — you make me feel really good, Harry. Can’t explain it. Can’t even put it into words, really. Just, really, really good.”

He makes her feel loved.

And she wants to tell him that, she does, but that word — loved — it’s the same word he called her not just five minutes ago, but it’s so much more than that. Maybe he doesn’t love her, she surely doesn’t expect that from him just yet, but how is she ever going to explain that her feeling of feeling loved is what other people — normal people, she supposes — would consider feeling liked?

And as Y/n’s practically melting between his palms, Harry is trying so hard to understand just how he’s ended up here, being this close to her, when he always believed he’d go his whole life not being this close to anybody.

His eyes bore into hers just to reassure himself that it’s okay — that she’s okay and that they’re okay and that now, it’s okay for him to do the one thing he’s been dreaming about doing since yesterday. And when she smiles at him, a real and genuine smile, he nods.

And he leans in for their second kiss, his thumbs rubbing along her cheeks, humming into her mouth because his own has been watering for a chance to do this again. And it’s perfect. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this way about anything.

And Y/n is on cloud nine. She could really kiss him all day every day and still feel like she hasn’t missed a thing. This — this feeling, this moment, this person — is everything she’s ever wanted and everything she will always need. It’s irreplaceably and undeniably hers, and she’ll do anything to keep it for as long as she lives.

Her hands are on his neck, pulling him further into her because she can’t get enough of him and nothing else matters besides them meeting in the break room, kissing behind closed doors like teenagers who haven’t learned how to keep their hands to themselves.

The only thing that breaks them from their moment is the sound of the copy room door being slammed in the hallway, their breaths heavy and lips red and wet from each other’s.

“Have dinner with me tonight.” Harry suggests as his fingers tuck loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Wherever you want.”

And Y/n’s unsure as to whether it’s the sleepless night sneaking up on her or if it’s the aftermath of Harry kissing her senseless, but she can’t think of a single thing she could possibly want for dinner when she just wants to be with him. He could take her to the most run-down restaurant in this city and she would still feel as though she were on the highest of hilltops, overlooking the prettiest view, all because of him.

“I don’t — I don’t care, really. It wouldn’t even really matter, anyways, just — just as long as you’re with me. Don’t even have to have dinner, if you don’t want to. Could do anything you’d like.”

She’s blushing and looking down at her feet, and Harry hates when she hides herself like this, hates that she puts herself under to put him first when she deserves to be the first and the only — he has a sick and twisted feeling she’s never been any of those things to anybody.

“Y/n.” His tone is slow and stern as his head ducks down so her can eyes can meet his. “Wherever you want.”

And how could she say no to those eyes — though always so dark, so void, are also so gentle and so kind, so deep and so open? The light in them changes just ever so slightly whenever he looks at her, and she wouldn’t dream of ever taking that away from him.

“I want what you have for lunch on Tuesdays.”

His thumb brushes against the edge of her jawline.

“It’s homemade. I can pick you up around seven, eat dinner at mine.”

Her fingers wrap around his wrist absentmindedly, holding his hand so that it stays pressed against the back of her head.

“No, Harry, that’s not — that’s too much work for you. Let me at least drive and meet you at your flat, yeah? I can’t let you do that.”

She really is just the cutest, sweetest, most considerate person he’s ever met, and the most beautiful he’s ever laid eyes on. And if she wasn’t all of those things, he would let her drive and meet him at his flat for dinner, but she is, and what kind of date would it be if Harry didn’t come knocking on her front door, holding out his hand, and leading the night away?

She deserves to have a night that’s just for her. And surely, Harry wants this date just as much as she does, but it’s not about him, because as long as she’s beside him, he doesn’t have a care in the world what he has to do to get her there.

“Y/n.” His voice is as low and stern as before. “I’m picking you up at seven.”

Y/n looks at him for a moment, studying him, wondering how she’s ended up here — the only place she has ever wanted to be. She lets out a breathy chuckle, her cheeks flushed, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

“I’ll see you at seven, then.”

His eyes light up.

And they kiss.

-

It’s 6:35 when Harry actually comes to pick Y/n up, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see her so badly, and he couldn’t just sit on his sofa trying to justify waiting to be with her again. He would have been more than willing to watch her finish getting ready, or just stand at the other side of her door, trying to convince her to let him in because she’s going to look beautiful no matter what.

He doesn’t even care if he comes off as desperate, because he is.

And Y/n is, too, because of course she was ready by 6:35. Since the second she got home, she was putting herself together as best she could, though refusing to try as hard as she normally would with anybody else because for whatever reason, Harry likes her for her — likes her in her work clothes with her hair up, without makeup on, first thing in the morning — and she wouldn’t ever dream of jeopardizing that.

And Y/n is left speechless as she opens her front door, because not only does Harry look as handsome and fit as ever, but he’s also holding the prettiest bouquet of flowers she’s ever seen.

“Harry, I — wow.”

He holds them out to her, failing to mention anything about them, just handing them to her like it’s something so normal and so casual, when in reality, the gesture is anything but.

Out of all the years she’s lived, nobody’s ever given her a reason to believe she’s been thought about once out of sight. Even when she was with Cooper — her one and only boyfriend — he’d never bought her flower arrangements or spontaneous gifts whenever they were apart, even on the days he should have, like she only existed when it was convenient for him.

This is just her first date with Harry and she’s never felt more alive. She lives in his mind even when she’s blocks away — nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be heard.

She takes the bouquet from his hands, looking down at what must have been two dozen flowers, wrapped all together by a rubber band and light purple plastic wrap.

“Lilies.” She marvels at him, eyes wide with an open-mouthed smile, like she couldn’t believe the sight of them. “These are my absolute favorites.”

He nods, his hands locked behind his back, lips pursed and body rocking from heel to toe. “I know.”

She tilts her head at him.

“You told me a couple months ago during lunch hour.”

And again, she’s left speechless.

She can’t even remember telling him about her love for lilies, yet here he is, recalling all these small details about herself she’s said in passing. Even in the moments he wasn’t the most fond of her, even in the moments he could hardly stand her company, he was paying attention to her. He was listening to her, so much so that her words have stuck with him despite all the days that have passed.

And it’s no wonder she’s fallen so quickly under his spell — it was made just for her. Nobody else could ever see what he sees in her, and nobody else could ever see what she sees in him, and that’s exactly how they’ve ended up here — both standing on her doorstep, refusing to take their eyes off each other, anxious to spend the rest of their night together, hoping it’s forever.

“I love them, Harry, thank you.” She blushes, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m just going to put these in a vase real quick. You can come in, if you’d like. Or you can stay out here, it doesn't matter.”

He follows her into the flat, which looks and smells exactly how he imagined it would. It feels just as warm as she does and smells like a mix of lavender and honey, just as intoxicating as her.

And though there are so many things he wants to see — the books she collects beside her living room couch, the movies scattered alongside her DVD player, and the pictures hung up on her walls — all he can focus on is the woman that’s stolen his heart so effortlessly.

He leans himself against the wall of her kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, watching as she pours the water and powder into the vase, stirring it together gently between her hands. And as she unwraps and unties the flowers, Harry wishes they could live for as long as they do.

This is the view he wants forever — Y/n putting flowers he’s gotten her in clear vases, surrounded by her favorite things, sharing comfortable silences she’d feel so nervous in if it were with anybody else.

She is his, he decides, and he is helplessly hers.

“Didn’t tell you when I first saw you but, you look stunning.”

She looks over at him, her eyes gleaming and lips tugged upward at his words.

“Yeah?”

His lips tug upward, too, in the same way they did earlier today in the break room, and it amazes her how something so small could mean so much to her.

“Yeah.” He breathes out, his eyes soaking her all in, still convinced she’s a dream he hasn’t woken up from. “You always do.”

She blushes, reaching forward to place the vase onto the windowsill above her sink. She can feel his eyes on her still, refusing to break away from her, and it makes her feel like the only woman in the world. And maybe she is — at the very least, the only woman in Harry’s.

She walks over to where he stands so irresistibly — so tall and so handsome, with a chest she so desperately wants to make a home out of and kiss at until she has nothing left but the burning of his skin on her own.

And as she stands before him, neither of them have anything to say because in times like these, their breaths are taken away and all they can process is how close they are to each other.

Her hands graze over his chest ever so slightly, hesitant to touch him the way she’s been shamefully aching to, afraid to push him away. But she can hear his breath hitch in his throat and can see his pecs tighten beneath her fingertips, and she lets out an uneven breath. He likes it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.” She whispers, her breath fanning his neck and she swears she can see his eyes fighting to stay open.

Her hands graze up to the dip of his collarbones, her thumbs running along the sides of his throat. And to give her more access, Harry dips his head back, overstimulated by the feeling of it all.

“To touch me?”

His voice is strained and croaked, borderline delirious. And though his eyes are fluttering closed as her fingers now run along the shape of his shoulders and up the sides of his neck, dancing along his jawline, he can see her bite down on her bottom lip and it makes his heart hurt, in the best way possible.

Her eyes gleam as her fingers twist around the chain on his neck.

“It’s been all I could think about since I met you.”

His head falls back against the wall, the smallest of whimpers falling from his practically drooling mouth.

God, everything about her drives him wild. He has so completely lost himself in her, he can’t even remember his own name. He can’t even remember who he was just twenty seconds ago, much less who he was before he met her, and it’s something so new he can’t grasp the reality of it.

Her hands all over him is a feeling he can’t put into words, and one he certainly can’t hide.

He is falling.

And falling.

And falling.

-

It doesn’t take them too long to figure out how similar they are despite their differences, certainly not after downing half a bottle of wine mixed with being so incredibly drunk on each other.

Y/n confided in him about her past — about how her nervous habits have never made her feel like she never had a true sense of belonging because everywhere she went, she was constantly kicked out. She’s had such unfathomable lows that she’d lock herself in her room for weeks on end, forcing herself quiet, because even she was sick of hearing herself.

And as Harry listened to her speak about all the cruel, heartless things that have been said to her, he couldn’t help but feel understood despite the feeling of guilt throbbing in his gut, for he had done what everybody else did not just one day ago.

Harry confided in her, too, about how he had always been left out because he always managed to bring down everybody else’s mood. He told her things he hadn’t told anybody else because he had nobody else to tell them to — told her about all the drugs he’s taken and all the other toxic habits he’d pursued in a poor, desperate attempt to become emotional.

Then, they talked about their parents — a conversation so barren and so untouched, it was almost impossible to talk about.

Y/n grew up with parents who didn’t understand her, because who could? Even when she was little, barely forming an identity and her only concept of friendship being imaginary ones, her parents would tell her that she was embarrassing herself. She’ll always remember the look on her mother’s face at a New Years Eve party when she said, “I just can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

Harry grew up with absent parents — absent in a sense that they were around, just never really there. His parents hardly acknowledged him, hardly ever spoke to him, and when they did it felt so forced, like an obligation they couldn’t find their way out of. He’ll never forget the way they looked at him, like he wasn’t even there, like they didn’t even want him to be.

It makes them question just how strongly the universe works in their favor.

Because what seems to be the first time in her life, Y/n has found something only made for her, a place where nobody else belongs, and it wouldn’t have brought her here if she had kept herself locked away, rotting in her self pity, refusing to let anybody in for all the rest of her years.

And for what seems to be the first time in his life, Harry feels he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, with the person he’s supposed to be with, and it wouldn’t have brought him here if all the wine, all the blunts, and all the pills did what he so desperately wanted out of them all those years ago.

They had spent their whole lives trying to make something out of themselves when they were always enough, because they were enough for each other, and each other was what they were made for.

“So you’re saying that all this time, we’ve been the exact same person?” Y/n chuckles, because though their conversation was so serious, the mood was still as lighthearted as everything else between them.

“Peculiar habits, a history of toxic behavior, no friends, and shitty parents? Yeah, sounds like it.”

Y/n laughs, shaking her head.

“Here’s to nobody liking us.” Y/n raises her glass.

“Here’s to nobody liking us.” Harry repeats, raising his own. “Except for each other.”

And they clink.

-

Maybe they shouldn’t have finished that entire bottle of wine to themselves, but they did.

What started off in the kitchen made its way to the living room, both sat beside each other on Harry’s sofa with their heads hung back, Y/n cracking jokes and humming along to the songs on her playlist, and Harry admiring her from the distance.

They both have their last glasses of wine nearly gone, holding them upon their thighs, taking their final sips throughout the hour and with every one they take, they feel closer somehow.

Y/n’s giggling about how Harry won’t stop looking at her, and though she can’t see it between her squinting eyes and their gaze set upon the ceiling wall, he smiles.

He can’t help it — looking at her like it’s the last time he ever will though it’s only the beginning, but he doesn’t ever want to forget the way he feels whenever he does. This is the only good feeling he’s ever had, and even when she’s not in view, he wants to hold onto it ‘til his dying day.

“You’re my favorite person.” Is all he says, his lips fallen. “My only person.”

Y/n finally turns her head over to him, now, so that her eyes are locked on his. And she wishes he can understand the feeling in her heart and the way it’s beating so eroticly, but she doesn’t, because it’s so overwhelming and too much of a good thing for her to make sense of.

Never in her life has she felt so good, yet here she is, feeling even better than that, all because of one person she met nearly two years ago.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He nods, because he understands, and they both look away from each other again.

They’re getting lost in the music and lost in the feeling of the air that surrounds them — so full of unexplainable things that leave them wanting more than they did before, breathing in nothing but longing and desire.

And it isn’t until one of Y/n’s favorite songs comes on that the comfortable silence between them is all but broken, in the most beautiful way possible.

“Green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park. I used to think I would meet somebody there.”

Harry stiffens beside her, his fingers instinctively curling tighter around his glass of wine — speechless and breathless as the sound of her voice intoxicates his already drunken state of mind, the room now spinning but only because of her.

“Teal was the color of your shirt when you were sixteen at the yogurt shop you used to work at to make a little money.”

This is heaven, he feels. It has to be because things this beautiful don’t exist in worlds so cruel, in worlds so evil.

Things this beautiful don’t belong here.

Y/n doesn’t belong here. She’s too perfect for her own good — too perfect for a world that refuses to believe in such things, but he does. He does because how can he deny the woman that’s sitting right before him? How can he deny the sound of her voice in a dim lit room, soaked in red wine, existing only to be heard by him?

“Time — curious time — gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn’t see? And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string — tying you to me?”

Y/n’s raising her glass to her lips as the lyrics pause but god, if Harry has to watch her lips touch anything but his, it’s going to be the end of him. And right as her mouth puckers for a taste, Harry reaches his hand out to grab the bowl of the glass, lifting it from her fingers before setting it down upon the coffee table beside them.

She tilts her head at him with furrowed brows and squinted eyes, watching as Harry practically crawls over to her until his thighs are pressed to her knees and his hands are at either side of her waist.

“You’re so pretty.”

Y/n rolls her eyes at him but it hides behind her flushed cheeks and growing smile.

“Harry —”

“Sh.” He shushes her, laying his forehead against the top of her chest, slithering his arms to her lower back, and Y/n giggles. “Keep going.”

So, she does — keeps singing the very words she had been so hopelessly trying to put a face to, to the very man that holds her to them.

And she’s falling.

She feels it now more than ever as he practically buries himself into her, rocking her gently back and forth like she’s some sort of delicacy he wouldn’t dare to break. Everything about it is so intimate, so real, so raw — no boundaries, all walls crumbled down so vulnerably, feeling each other so deeply.

She wonders if he feels it, too.

And oh, does he feel it — her words, his touch, the room fading to nothingness. It is just them — no fears, no doubts, no resentment — together in this moment, becoming one, letting everything else simply slip through their fingertips.

Harry rests his lips upon her collar bone, settling them against her sweltering skin. He can feel her heart beating against his mouth, and it feels right.

“Spend the night with me.”

Y/n stiffens.

She wants to spend the night, she does, more than anything else she could ever want. It’s been her long-lived dream to be cuddled to his chest, feeling him breathe against her, burning in his touch until slumber clouded her senses; waking up beside him in the early morning and hearing that voice so rasped and far gone.

But all of her dreams are so innocent, so pure, and so holy by him, and what if that’s not where his head is? Between all the drinks, all the touching, and all the stolen stares, it could be somewhere so far out of her reach, somewhere so far away from her own, and it’ll absolutely ruin her if that’s all he wants out of her.

Harry must have felt her uneasiness because he’s quick to lift his head from her chest.

“No, no. Not like that, Y/n. I promise. Never even —”

Had sex.

He was so close to saying it to reassure her, but he couldn’t — he couldn’t because if he did, she’d have every reason to believe he was thinking of such things when it was the farthest thought from his mind. Really, he wants her to spend the night because once she leaves, she’s all he’s going to think about and all he’s going to want beside him. He probably would have ended up on her doorstep at two in the morning, dazed and confused, all because he never wants to be away from her.

She is so close, and he wants her so bad.

“Had a girlfriend.”

He settles for something less straightforward but just as truthful and vulnerable. Besides, he figured it’s something she should know because if he ever fucks something up, or fails to do right by her, even if it’s unintentional, maybe she’d understand why.

He’s absolutely terrified that he’s going to be the first one to start a fight and not know how to fix it, or be the first one to make the other cry and not know why. He’s done it before, with Celeste. And though what he has with Y/n is so different and so much more real than what he ever had with her, he still managed to break her heart enough for her to leave him. He wouldn’t blame Y/n if she ever decides to, too.

Y/n looks down at him with eyes full of sorrow. He’s not asking for pity, she knows that, but how he’s gone his whole life without ever being loved, she’ll never understand.

It’s all he deserves.

And she can’t help but feel like she’s the least deserving person to be the first because she knows, down to the very pit of her soul, that Harry isn’t like the others — that Harry wouldn’t kiss her, ask her out on a date, and snuggle himself into her the way he is right now just to get a proper shag — yet she convinced herself that maybe, somewhere so deeply within him, he is that kind of person, and that is so far from fair.

She runs her fingers through his hair.

“I’ll only spend the night under one condition.”

He blinks at her.

“Anything.”

She leans forward to rub her nose against his, a soft smirk set on her lips as she kisses him gently.

She giggles before pulling away, sliding out from underneath him and though the small pout on Harry’s face would send her right back to him, she chooses to stand beside him with an open-palmed hand sticking out before her, her eyes glistening, her lips bitten.

“Dance with me.”

And god, how could he ever say no to that face?

He lets out a breathy chuckle as he hitches his glasses up — the closest thing to a laugh Yn has ever heard out of him, and it makes her want to cry. And he shakes his head softly before grabbing onto her hand, letting her lift him from the sofa.

“You drive me wild.”

She hums, lifting his hand up to her lips.

She guides him behind the coffee table, grasping both of his hands in hers, and though she fully intends on pulling him to her and leading the rest of the way, he beats her to it.

He’s got her pressed up against him, one hand hooked to her lower back and the other holding hers between their shoulders, swaying them side to side as they dance together in slow circles.

They’re at peace. Together, they can do the most cliche of things — make a dance floor out of a living room, make a night out of a date — and not feel anything but pure, genuine happiness out of it.

They don’t need anything or anyone outside of each other, and that’s what makes it all the better.

“Hm…” Y/n hums, resting the side of her cheek against his chest. She feels at home like this. “Quite the dancer, you are.”

His thumb rubs at her wrist, and he shakes his head.

“Only for you.”

-

Y/n doesn’t go home the following night.

Or the night after that.

Or the night after that.

Or the night after that.

-

This must be the third time Y/n’s set off the smoke alarm.

And in any other circumstance, she probably would have given up and called Harry’s favorite take out to spare him from a night of potential food poisoning, but Harry’s spent the past two weeks telling her how much he wished Thanksgiving was a British holiday, and now that it’s late November and Harry has spent the past three months of their relationship doing all the cooking, she can’t quit him now.

Even as she’s flinging around the oven mitts trying to waft the smoke from the open oven out of her face, she still can’t quit.

The things she does for love, she fucking hates it.

“Pretty, you’re going to burn our flat down.” Harry chuckles from behind her, his hand landing on the small of her back as he rubs gently at it. “Let me take it from here, love. I’ve got it.”

Y/n’s quick to close the oven door back shut and press her back to it, practically flinging herself away from Harry’s touch as she does so. She’s panting and sweating and her hair is an absolute wreck, yet she refuses Harry’s helping hand.

This is his day, and she is his girl, and she just has to do this.

“No, no, mister! Don’t you even think about it! I’ve got it all under control.”

Her lips are pursed for the simple reason that she knows it’s an absolute monstrosity — she’s burnt two rounds of yams, somehow turned mashed potatoes into soup, and overcooked the green bean casserole to a cripst — but at least it’s all been made with love.

And she assumes Harry doesn’t believe her, either, because he’s trying his absolute hardest to not laugh at her, but that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“Pretty,” Harry laughs, facepalming himself before his hand cups around his mouth to try to stifle the sounds. “You — you closed the oven door again and it’s —”

“Fuck!”

She turns herself around before ripping the oven back open, coughing and groaning as a cloud of smoke hits her face for the millionth time tonight before reaching in to grab yet another round of burnt yams.

She slams it onto the stove, ripping her oven mitts off and throwing them onto the counter beside her.

Harry feels bad, he does, because she’s been slaving away in their kitchen for the past five hours and she’s the farthest from satisfied she could possibly be, but he can’t deny that he loves seeing her like this — so passionate, all cute and grumpy just to make him happy.

Oh, how he loves her so, even when she burns his beloved yams.

He kisses the back of her head.

“Looks incredible, baby. Don’t need anything else than what you’ve got.” His lips move to her cheek. “Let me set the table while you put everything in dishes, yeah? Starving.”

He lights two pumpkin spice candles upon the table, pouring two glasses of their favorite wine, and setting down two plates for each of them because they haven’t eaten all day in preparation for their dinner, and they’re both at their wits end.

Y/n sets dinner up buffet style along the kitchen island — the roasted young turkey set in the middle surrounded by bowls of corn, mashed potatoes, stuffing, macaroni and cheese, and dinner rolls.

Though she’s far from being a good cook, she does feel slightly better when she sees it all set up in autumn-colored dish sets. It could have been a lot worse, it really could have been a lot worse.

And it’s the look on Harry’s face that makes the past five hours of hell so incredibly worth it.

His fists are on the kitchen table, his body leaning forward as his eyes marvel at the sight in front of him. Autumn has always been his favorite season, and he’s always been so fond of the concept of Thanksgiving — spending time with his loved ones, reminiscing all his favorite memories throughout the year, delving into his favorite foods.

He’d contemplated making a Thanksgiving of his own for the past couple years, but whenever it came down to it, he realized he didn’t have much to be thankful for, and he didn’t have any memories to look back on. So, he never did.

But now, he has so much to be thankful for — so many unforgettable memories, a lifetime of happiness, and a loved one to finally celebrate with — all of which are standing right before him.

Nobody else in the world would ever do the things she does for him. She is one and a million, his little miracle, and the absolute light of his life.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

She shrugs, a teasing grin playing on her lips.

“Once or twice.”

She loads their plates up with everything she made — giving Harry extra stuffing, of course — before she makes her way back to the kitchen table, sitting across from the very man she’s thankful for this year.

She didn’t realize how good it would feel — to spend a holiday with Harry, even though it’s illegitimate — but it’s warm and homely and everything else in between. It’s no wonder she falls more in love with him everyday, and no wonder she wants to spend all of her days exactly where they are now, until they’re old and grumpy and can hardly stand the sight of each other anymore.

Y/n lifts up her wine glass.

“This year, I’m thankful for being yours and only yours. I’m nothing without you.”

Harry lifts up his wine glass.

“This year, I’m thankful for you and your love. You’re everything to me.”

They clink, they eat, they kiss, and they do it all over again.

-

“You know, I don’t think guys are meant to do this kind of stuff.”

Y/n’s sitting across from Harry on their queen-sized bed, their legs crossed Indian style as Harry’s hand is spread out before her, Y/n grasping onto his fingers with her own as she paints a thin layer of black nailpolish onto his nails.

It didn’t take Y/n much convincing to get Harry in this position. She knows full well that all she has to do is pout and cross her arms for him to give her what she wants. And normally, she doesn’t use his weaknesses against him — she doesn’t think it’s right, and he’d never do it to her — but this is something so harmless that she gave herself a free pass.

Plus, she knows he’d look hot with his nails painted black.

“Shut up, H.” She giggles, shaking her head. “They’ll look really good, I promise. Besides, it could be our little secret.”

He can’t lie, it does feel nice to be pampered like this. Her hands are soft and it tickles when she goes finger-to-finger, and it’s a damn good excuse to touch her and look at her for minutes on end. She’s got her eyebrows pinched together as she moves his fingers around, trying to get into every edge and crevice, and he can see it in her eyes how much she’s truly enjoying herself right now.

His eyes take a peek at his nails and it’s not nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be. They make him feel… different, but in a way that can only be described as holding a certain power he never knew he had.

Guys normally don’t do this kind of stuff, but he is, and he looks damn good while doing it.

And as Y/n takes both of his hands out to her and starts to blow on them, his eyes flutter with amusement. Maybe, just maybe, he’d let her do this again.

She pokes one of her nails into his.

“They should be dry now.”

And though his nails are finished, Y/n still hasn’t let go of his hands, and her eyes haven’t left his fingers. Instead, she’s marveling over them — eyes gleaming, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, her digits twisting at his rings.

He smirks at her.

“Look good?”

She nods, lifting one of his hands up higher towards her neck.

“They look really good, H. So good, I —” She doesn’t even let herself finish before she brings his pointer and middle finger up and into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and proper sucking on them like she was born for it.

Harry’s breath gets locked in his throat, his entire demeanor changing as he broadens his shoulders and tenses his chest, his eyes darkening and hawking over every move of her mouth, every swipe of her tongue.

She’s moaning — whimpering and whining like she’s been left starving and he’s her first proper meal in weeks. And nothing’s even started yet.

He reaches his free hand over to her face, petting her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“That’s it, my pretty girl. Just like that.”

She pops them out of her mouth, her lips red and wet and eyes glossy with lust. And Harry watches as she grabs a hold of his wrist and guides his two, sloppy and dripping fingers down her neck and between her breasts, stretching down the collar of her shirt, leaning back for him to have the most perfect view.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, the hand that was once on her cheek reaching over to grope at her thigh. “Is this what I’m going to get every time you paint my nails black? You being such a good girl for me?”

She nods her head, gulping.

“Y — yeah.” She shudders as the hand on her thigh inches up with every passing second. “Told you they’d look so good.”

He chuckles darkly before he reaches his hand up to grab at the base of her throat. It’s her favorite, when he takes her breath away like this, because all she can feel is him.

And right now, he doesn’t want her to feel anything else.

He pushes her down until her back is fully pressed against the mattress, and he crawls until he’s above her on his hands and knees, his fingers still squeezing at her throat.

Such a pretty neck, such a pretty face. And it’s all his.

“Let’s see how good they look all over you, yeah?”

-

Harry hears something when he passes one of the vacant offices at work.

It’s a bloodcurdling sound, one he hasn’t ever heard before and one he wished he’d never heard at all, but he knows exactly what it is before he sees it.

He could never mistake the sound of his girl — it’s all he ever hears and he’s been around her long enough to know the sound of her very breath. She’s a part of him — he feels her in his bones when she’s close and knows exactly what she’s feeling at every moment in time.

But what he sees is worse than he could have ever imagined.

Y/n’s sobbing something so awful her face is nearly blue, lips trembling and eyes all but swollen shut, shaking and convulsing upon the chair below her.

And Harry doesn’t know what to do.

His brain is working at a million miles an hour and he can’t keep up — doesn’t know left from right, up from down — because all he can feel is the overwhelming sense of heartbreak and his world crumbling out from underneath him.

He practically runs to her — tripping over the legs of office chairs, ramming his hips into the corners of the table, on the verge of collapse with every step he takes. Yet nothing stops him from falling to his knees before her, letting his hands grab a hold of her soaken cheeks, having his thumbs wipe away her endless tears.

“Pretty —”

He can’t even get a word out without wanting to cry, but he’s never done it before. He wouldn’t know how to even if he wanted to, but it’s there — that lump in his throat, that tightening of his chest, that burning in his eyes, it’s all there.

“What happened, baby? Talk to me.”

And though she really didn’t want Harry to see her this way, she can’t help but clasp her shaking fingers around his wrists, holding him there because she doesn’t know what she would do if he were to leave her now.

What happened today — what happened to her — is just further proof that the only person she can trust and the only person she can truly be herself with is Harry. The world is so vengeful and so deceiving towards her, for reasons so unknown, but it’s brought her to the very man kneeling between her thighs, with eyes full of unshed tears, wanting her and loving her even when nobody else does. And if he were to walk away from her now, though she knows he wouldn’t dream of it, she’d lose every last bit of hope she has, and she wouldn’t be able to survive it.

She needs him so badly it hurts.

“Can’t —” She shakes her head as she sniffles back a sob. “Can’t tell you.”

She can’t because she doesn’t want him to see just how bad it can get for her — see how her differences are so obvious to everything and everyone around her. It never ends. It’s been like this for as long as she can remember and she’s so scared and so afraid that if Harry sees it, too, he’d do the very thing that happened to her twenty minutes ago.

But even through her waterfall eyes, she can see just how devastated Harry looks at her words.

“Pretty, you can tell me anything. You know that. Can’t —” He shakes his head, gulping, one of his hands rubbing at the back of her head. “Can’t see you like this and not know how to fix it.”

She pulls her hands away from her tight hold on him so that they can cover her face — too ashamed for the world to see how much it’s broken her down, too humiliated to face somebody so much better than her.

“It — it’s s — so emb — embarrassing!”

She’s hiding from him. Harry hates when she hides from him.

“No, please don’t — please don’t do that.” He practically begs as his hands reach back up to hers, pulling them away from her face and intertwining their fingers together. “It’s me, baby. It’s me. You don’t have to do that with me. Please, don’t do that with me.”

He’s got their hands held on top of her knees, the pads of his thumbs stroking her palms, his lips pressing to the top of her exposed thighs because it’s the only thing he can think of doing right now.

He’s never done this — never had anybody break and shatter before his very eyes, much less somebody he loves — and he is so bad with words and so bad with dealing with his own feelings he wouldn’t even know where to start dealing with hers, but he does know that he can be the most affectionate boyfriend there is towards her, and he hopes that’s a start.

But he doesn’t have a single clue just how good it feels for Y/n to be loved by him when she feels so hated. He is the only person that really, truly matters to her, so to feel him touch her and kiss her when she’s at her absolute lowest, is all she really needs.

Harry notices her breath starting to shallow and her sobs fading to distant cries every time he presses his lips to her skin, and despite how much of a mess he is, it warms his heart to know that they share a love that can overcome anything life decides to throw at them.

He reluctantly lifts his head up to look at her properly, now. His glasses are all fogged and wet but he refuses to take them off the way he normally would with her, because that would require him letting go of her hands, and for both of their sanity, that’s not something he can do right now.

He’s crying.

And though his face is as stone cold and tight as always, his eyes, Y/n notices, are unlike anything she’s ever seen. They’re so undeniably broken, and her heart crumbles into a million pieces just at the sight of it.

She feels it’s all because of her.

“The new recruit, Mason, he —”

She sucks in a breath, trying to find the right words that could possibly explain the amount of damage that he caused her without sounding so weak and pathetic. It wouldn’t have hurt her as badly if it wasn’t something that’s happened to her more and more over the years, beating her down further and further each time, digging deeper and deeper into her already hollowed out chest.

And all Harry can think about is how one name, one person, has made this much of a mess out of her — one that she has to see every single day, that she has to speak to in order to get her work done, that she has to face time and time again.

He’s never hated so much in his life.

“What did he do to you?” He whispers it, afraid that one wrong tone of voice or one wrong word can tear her apart all over again. “Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

She shakes her head, her eyes casted down at their intertwined hands.

“Laughed at me.”

Her voice is so small and so sad, it’s the most heartbreaking sound Harry has ever heard. And he feels like he failed her.

He knows full well that somebody laughing at her and degrading her, hurts her more than any physical pain she could possibly feel. Even if Mason had touched her, it wouldn’t have made her like this — so afraid, so self-conscious, and so successfully ruined.

“In front of the whole team, just — just kept poking fun at me. Mocking me. Speaking about me as if I wasn’t there. Making fun of my nervous stutter and — and talking over me like, ‘oh, and she keeps going.’ and ‘wow, it just never ends, does it?’ and making everyone laugh at me.”

He should have been there. All he can think about is how he should have been by her side the way any boyfriend should — should have been there to protect her, to keep his eyes on anybody who dared to even look at her the wrong way, to never let her out of his sight.

They’re on the same team and he just should have fucking been there.

“Said he’d take bets with people to see how long it would take me to shut up and I wanted to tell him so badly that the more he says those things the more I ramble because it makes me nervous and I don’t know what else to do but apart of me — apart of me felt like he already knew that and kept going so that I could keep going so that he can keep making a fool out of me.”

Her bottom lip quivers again, and so does his, and Harry has had enough.

He can’t keep seeing her like this because who knows what his love for her could make him do. He’s already broken so many boundaries just from taking one look at her, he can’t even imagine what comes next, or what would come next, if he has to see it again.

With every last bit of courage he has, Harry lets go of her hands and brings his wrist up behind his glasses, wiping away the remnants of his tears, before bringing his hands back down to her knees.

“I’m going to tell Jeremy that you’re not feeling well and that you needed to go home, okay?”

She nods with a pout on her face because god, how badly does she want to crawl into their bed and hibernate beneath the covers until the weekend’s over.

“I’ll help you finish up whatever you need me to, and I’ll meet you back at our flat once I’m done.” He hooks his pointer finger under her chin, kissing away the pout his heart just can’t handle the sight of. “I love you so much. You’re everything to me.”

He didn’t have to tell her, because she already knew.

And it’s so hard for him to leave her like this, but he has to. He has to because she can’t stay here and face the same team that just spit on her name and pretend everything is okay, when everything is so far from it.

He kisses her one last time.

“Go home. I’ll be there soon.”

-

Harry wasn’t looking for Mason.

He really wasn’t, though every fiber in his body instinctively wanted to hunt him down and brutalize him until he was nothing but a pile of broken bones and battered flesh. His fingers ached for it, but he was more focused on getting home to Y/n so that she didn’t have to be alone — so that he can hold her, and kiss her, and remind her that the only reason the world keeps trying to knock her down is because she’s too perfect to be existing in it.

But as he stands in the copy room to help finish one of Y/n’s major projects, that’s exactly who he sees.

He walks in, whistling the same tune he does every other day, one hand holding a pile of papers and the other slinging the office keys by their lanyard. And as he occupies the empty copy machine next to Harry’s, he lifts his chin up as if to greet him on this truly horrible, unforgiving day.

Harry tenses on sight, his shoulders straightening up and his fingers tightening around the folder that now holds everything he needed to make his way out of here.

But how could he, when Mason is right here?

He takes one last glance at Mason and one last breath before he slowly and steadily makes his way to the door, shutting it closed, before he says anything at all. And really, he doesn’t even fully know what he wants to say, but he does know that he can’t let him get away with the things he’s done, or the words he’s said, or the pain he’s caused to the one and only person Harry cares about.

He’s never been one for confrontation — never been one to project his feelings onto people, or make his problems into somebody else’s — but fuck, it’s Y/n, and his love for her is so different than any other emotion he’s ever felt. It makes him hate, it makes him dangerous, and it makes him something so beyond himself when he sees her the way he did not just three hours ago.

And who would he be if he didn’t do what he knows is right?

“I’m not an emotional guy, Mason.” Harry starts, his fingers twisting and knotting against his palms, trying so hard to keep himself together. But this is too small of a room to carry around so much anger, so much loathing for one person, and the narrowing space between them is building so much tension Harry feels like he’s drowning in all of it. “But I am today.”

Mason’s full attention is on Harry now, fully suspicious of his actions and words, confused as to why the temperature in the room has suddenly fallen below zero.

“I’ve got a lot of feelings… never really learned how to express them. Got a lot of resentment, a lot of anger, a lot of love for my girl.”

Harry takes his glasses off, closing them shut before stuffing them in his jacket pocket.

“Got a lot of all three right now. But if it ever came down to it, I’d do what’s right by Y/n and I wouldn’t think twice about it. Can’t say that for anybody else, except for her.”

And it’s true.

She’s the only thing in existence that can get to this side of him. He’s been so visibly numb his entire life, it didn’t matter how angry he was, or how hurt he was, or how depressed he was, he was so incurably lifeless despite all the vulnerability scrambling inside him. Yet seeing Y/n practically fall apart between his palms set something so deeply within him, he cried alongside her.

And now, he’s rolling up the sleeves of his jacket.

“You understand what I’m saying, correct?”

There’s a pregnant pause in the air, and Harry’s left starving to feast on this poor excuse of a man.

“Look, mate —” Mason finally turns to him, smiling so obnoxiously it makes Harry’s stomach churn. Y/n’s spent the whole day crying and Mason is smiling, laughing, even, like he doesn’t have a care or a clue in the world that he’s broken somebody down so badly — somebody so innocent, somebody so undeserving. “I’m a jokester, alright? Whatever I said to her, it wasn’t personal. I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit — make some jokes, crack some smiles. All innocent here, yeah? It’s all good.”

Out of all the things he could have said, he chose all the wrong words.

And Harry just can’t understand how somebody could be so heartless and cruel and be so completely unaware of it — how someone could turn something already so foul into something so nauseatingly evil and do it with shrugged shoulders and a shit-eating grin.

His palms twitch.

But it isn’t until Mason pats his hand against Harry’s shoulder like he’s the one that’s being let off the hook, that Harry is pushed over the edge.

He should be on his knees, begging for mercy, begging for forgiveness, writhing in fear.

He grabs a hold of Mason’s wrist so tightly his fingers turn numb under the pulse of the very man he so desperately wants to demolish. And before he can even process what’s happening, before he has time to suppress the blackout rage crashing down on him, the fist of his right hand knocks Mason down cold.

It happened so fast, Harry couldn’t even keep up. One second he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with the enemy and the next, he’s towering above him with knuckles covered in blood that isn’t his.

“Man, what the fuck?!” Mason cries from the ground, his hand reaching up toward the side of his already swollen and busted eye, cupping the wound as if to keep the pain from spreading and the blood from dripping. “You just fucking hit me!”

Harry’s panting and shaking and still has yet to finish what he’s started.

“My girlfriend is not a joke. She is not somebody for you to pick on when you want to crack some smiles and she is not a punchline for you to use when you have nothing funny to say.”

The tone of his voice is such a contradiction to the rest of him that if anybody else were watching, they wouldn’t understand why he did what he had just done. Because he’s far from yelling, far from screaming, far from anything other than the way he’d talk in any other circumstance, yet he doesn’t care. For the first time in his life, he just doesn’t care, because what he did was enough.

He rolls his jacket sleeves back down, the side of his wrist wiping the sweat from his top lip.

“You could have done anything else, but you didn’t.”

His bruised and busted hand takes his glasses out of his pocket, unfolding the temples and sliding them back onto the bridge of his nose. And he doesn’t bother taking another look at Mason — doesn’t even want to — before he hooks his fingers around the doorknob.

“If you ever make a joke out of her again, I’ll kill you. That’s it. Just like that. I’ll kill you.”

-

When Harry gets home that night, he’s got his hands full of all Y/n’s favorite things.

Not only does he have two bags of her favorite take out, but he’s also got a pint of her favorite ice cream, a heated blanket she’d been eyeing whenever they walked down Bond Street, and a bottle of the sweetest wine he could find at the liquor store.

And when she walks to the front door to greet him, wearing nothing but underwear and one of his favorite sweatshirts, he realizes that he couldn’t imagine a single day not coming home to her, or loving her, or protecting her from all the bad that’s been chewing on her and spitting her out.

“What’s all this?” She smiles softly at him, reaching to take some of the bags out of his trembling hands. 

“A peace offering.” He whispers so quietly, Y/n almost doesn’t hear it. 

He knows what he did was right, but what he doesn’t know is if this will make her see him differently. Because what he did was not the Harry she fell in love with, and maybe it’ll drive her so far away she’ll never have to see him again. 

But he’s praying, down to the very depths of himself, that she’ll understand. 

“What?” She tilts her head at him, “What do you mean?”

His eyes fall to his knuckles, that are still scarred and busted from before. And as her eyes follow his gaze down upon them, she gasps. 

“Baby —”

“I had to do it, Y/n.” He whimpers, his eyes closing. “He made you cry, I had to do it.”

And later that night, after they ate everything Harry had brought home until they could barely get up from the sofa, Y/n kissed at his knuckles, one by one. 

He’d get his knuckles bloody every single day if it meant getting his hands full of all the love he has to offer her. He’d cry, and cry, and cry if it meant Y/n doesn’t have to face the world alone. He’d go against himself in every way, in every conceivable notion, just to make her smile the very smile he’s looking at right now.

She is stronger than any drug, stronger than any other pain, any other happiness, any other feeling he has ever felt. Because now, he is so much more than he could ever imagine himself being, and all it took was her.

She is his favorite person, his only person — his little miracle and the absolute light of his life, even after all this time, and he couldn’t imagine it being any other way.

And it was then, he knew.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles preference #emotionless!harry

[scarofthewind]

Too Far || Slashers x Reader

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

A/N: I had two requests that were kind of the same, which I will have below. Warnings, there is angst! Enjoy! 

Request 1 by @brideofcthulhu10 : Hey! First of all I wanna say I absolutely love your slasher fics, very detailed, you have a lot of talent! (I mostly dabble with Lost Boys on my blog!) Anyhoo, I'm not sure if I sent this yet, but I was wondering if you could do Brahms reacting to an S/O who's usually very patient with him crying because of an outburst? Like she's his caretaker who usually can handle his fits, but one day he goes too far screaming in her face, breaking things, and she just falls apart?

Request 2 by anon:  Hi!I was thinking of a request if you wanna do it ofc, with Michael Myers when he is stressed out about something and maybe neglects or takes it out on s/o and she gets reallyy sad and goes for a walk at 3am and he Wakes up and not seeing her makes him feel guilty and sad and starts getting a panick attack just when she is returning and comforts him,im sorry if I’m being so specific I just wanted super angst with fluffy ending with Michael being super needy 🥺 sorry if i bother you

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━ 

Brahms Heelshire:

You had never seen him so angry over something so small in the time that you’ve been with Brahms. Not even being able to recall what the fight was about, you stood there in the center of the room that had been utterly destroyed. The lamps that were on either side of the couch were beyond repair, the book case was tipped and all it’s remains were scattered on the floor and the glass topped coffee table had long been broken. Brahms circled you like a feral animal, the glare in his eyes made you look to the floor in fear. You jumped when you heard another object being broken behind you and a coaster went flying by your head from behind you, hitting the wall in front. The small dent in the wall from the coasters collision, reminded you just how strong Brahms was. 

“You can’t do anything right!” He shouted; the sound of glass crashing followed his words. “Why do I even bother keeping you’re pathetic ass around?!” He shoved past you, moving down the hall to grab the coatrack and throw it to the floor. One of the ends broke off and rolled towards you but you didn’t dare move, or even breathe. Your heart pounded ferociously against your chest and you wondered how you hadn’t had heart failures yet from all the stress he puts you through.

“Honestly, I should just get rid of you.” Brahms continued his rampage, breaking things and ripping paintings off the walls. You had become so numb to his usual rampages, that you were surprised when you found tears pooling out from your eyes at his words. Suddenly turning around, he walked over to you and you did your best to tune him out. His words cut like a knife and all you could do was stare forward and pray that this would all blow over. 

But even then, prayers have their limits. “Why can’t you understand that I can’t stand you? You’re nothing but a good fuck and that’s all you will ever be!” That was the icing on the cake. A gasp so silent, it cut through the quiet air, left your lips and that’s when Brahms realized exactly what he’d done. It was like a switch had gone off in his head and the anger was gone, replaced with a guilt and fear of abandonment. His hands moved to cup your face but you almost tripped moving back, his eyes widening at your actions. 

Everything he said was a lie; you both knew it, but he still thought them up somehow and felt like unloading them onto you in that moment. “(Y/N), I didn’t mean it.” Brahms felt sick watching as you backed away from him into the nearest corner he managed to maneuver you in. All the thoughts in his head came to one conclusion: There was nothing he could do or say in that given time that would make you want to stay. 

“Please, listen to me.” He begged, his eyes holding so much fear you almost didn’t recognize the man before you. Brahms reached out to you gently, touching your shoulders and then your neck and then your face. “I didn’t mean any of that. Please forgive me; don’t leave me.” 

Your throat was dry and you had nothing to say, all you could do was stare. “I love you, baby, please talk to me.” You felt his thumbs wipe away the tears on your cheeks and his lips pressed kisses to your forehead. Brahms knew exactly how much he had fucked up and the guilt and shame were eating him alive. “My god, what have I done?” You tensed as he pulled you into a tight and possessive hug. Your arms stayed by your sides, not moving an inch as the words and his face full of anger, kept replaying in your head. “Don’t leave me okay? I can fix this; I’ll fix it, I swear, my love.”

Meaningless. Everything felt meaningless.

But you had nowhere to go and you loved this man, even with all his issues. So, you swallowed any pride you had left and hugged him back, hearing him sob just a bit as he swore up and down that you wouldn’t regret it. 

Michael Myers:

You couldn’t remember how you managed to get out of Michael’s grip while he was sleeping, but somehow you ended up outside in the freezing cold of night, walking down the sidewalk. You had managed to snag one of Michael’s jackets on your way out the door and thanked god it covered you well enough. 

It wasn’t like you and Michael didn’t fight; you did, a lot. Tonight’s was just different and hurt you in more ways than you thought possible. 

“Can’t you fucking leave me alone for once?” Michael’s voice was harsh as he moved away from your hands that were on his back. You realized he’d been under a lot of stress lately and he hadn’t really been himself; you were only trying to help ease the tension.

“Sometimes I really hate you and I think ‘why in the world, did I end up with her?’.” You remember that being the moment your heart sank to your stomach. The cold glare in his eyes was real, not like all the other times he’s done it. 

The moon made your shadow look odd as you watched the pavement before you, every now and then glancing around to see if anyone else was up. Your already puffy eyes burned with the feeling of tears again and you managed to choke them down. “I should’ve let your father kill you. I would be a free man right now.” 

You made your way around the block, making your way back home. “The only time you’re worth it is when your warming my cock.” You stopped, having arrived back at the front door. Your fingers twitched at the doorknob and you wondered if it was really a good idea to go back in. Michael had apologized after the fight and resulted in him not letting you out of an arm’s reach. But still. Was it worth it?

The second you opened the door, the air felt wrong. Shutting it behind you and taking your coat off, you realized why. Everything was torn apart. The furniture was all over the place and some pieces were broken, the TV was shattered and various pictures on the walls were on the ground. Loud sounds of footsteps came from upstairs when you shut the door and Michael practically tackled you. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. The man who put on a ‘Mr. Tough Guy’ act was now trembling in your arms, pulling you closer to him with each passing second. “Michael.” You said calmly, gently stroking his back with your hands. You heard him sniffle and your made a mental note to remember this moment. 

“Look at me.” Your voice was calming and you were there. You didn’t leave him like he thought. His eyes met yours and you reached up and brushed his tears away, moving his hair from his face and cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

He shook his head, his mouth too dry to speak from all the yelling he did while you were out on a walk. He’d woken up to your side of the bed cold as ice and all he could think was that you finally left him. He tore the house apart looking for you and when he couldn’t find you, he broke. This mountain of a man who hates showing one ounce of actual emotion, broke. 

“That’s good. Can you tell me why the house looks like this?” You asked him, being very careful with your words as his hands once again pulled you against him. 

“I-I was looking for you. I thought you left me.” His body shook as though the thought alone sent a chill down his spine. “You aren’t leaving me right?” His voice was so weak it was hard to remember what this man was actual capable of. 

“Of course not, Michael. I couldn’t sleep and needed some fresh air.” You cooed, peppering kisses along his jaw and chin. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” You assured him, nuzzling your face under his chin and letting him hold you close. 

“I’m so sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean any-” You shushed him, wrapping our arms around his back. 

“I know you didn’t mean it.” Your words were music to his ears and he pulled back enough to bend down and press a kiss to your lips. “Let’s go back to bed, okay? We can clean this up in the morning.” You told him as your lips parted; you led him upstairs and to your bedroom, not leaving his arms for the rest of the night. 

#brahms the boy #brahms heelshire #brahms x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms: the boy 2 #michael myers x reader #Michael Myers #Halloween #slasher imagines #horror x reader #horror imagines #[✉️].request #🥲.angst #🍰.fluff

[funtimebunnyblog]

Pillarmen with a s/o who’s terrified of the dark 🥺? She always clings to them if they’re near if the lights suddenly go out. She only feels safe in the dark of her pillarman is there to protect her 🥺

I really like the irony of this request! 🤔😆 4 ancient Aztec Vampire Gods (who have dwelled in darkness their entire existence) with a Mate who doesn't like the dark! 😂😂😂

In other words, please remember my dear Anon that no fear or phobia is too silly 🙂❤ Thank you very much for this submission and please enjoy!

The Pillarmen with an s/o who's afraid of the dark! 😱

(Under the cut for length!)

Nyctophobia: The extreme or irrational fear of the night or darkness...

Kars:

• To him, fears of any and all kinds are meaningless.

• This was because Kars was powerful, of course; every inch of him brimmed with strength unmeasured.

• Why should he hold very basic and useless fears for anything when he was above any threat?

• You had mentioned off handedly one or two times that you didn't like the dark, it didn't go unnoticed by him that there usually wasn't a room in the house without a light of some sort on, but he never really paid any mind to it.

• He didn't realize just how serious your "dislike" ran until one night during a nasty storm when the power went off.

• When the lights suddenly went out and the house was encased in pitch black it didn't so much as bother him as he could see just fine in the darkness.

• This was just a minor inconvenience in his eyes. As for you on the other hand...

• Your scream pierced the air like a siren, puncturing his heart like a nail to a balloon even from all the way downstairs.

• The very sound made his hair stand on end and every primal instinct he had to protect you activated at once.

• "KARS!" You shrieked. "KARS HELP!!!"

• The Pillarman was out of his seat in a fraction of a second, kicking down the door of his study and flying down the stairs two at a time to reach you.

• You must've fallen. You must've hurt yourself. You must be bleeding. Dying. Thousands of logical things were running through his mind as to why you were screaming like that.

• He found you backed into the far corner of the livingroom, still screaming, your arms entangled around yourself as if to try and protect yourself from some unknown danger.

• "Y/N!" He cried, reaching you at last. The very second you felt him near you, your arms flew around him in a desperate and clinging embrace, your screams dying down to sobs.

• Kars held you in his arms, eyes frantically scanning your quivering body. "What is it? Where are you hurt? Did you--"

• He was cut off suddenly. "DARK!"

• The massive man stopped, blinking stupidly. "What?" "It's dark! It's too DARK! IT'S TOO DARK!!!" You cried, shaking your head frantically as you hugged him even tighter.

• You were desperately trying to worm your way deeper into his arms; as if trying to hide and disappear from the dark world around you completely.

• The Pillarman stared owl eyed down at you; you were screaming... just because it was dark?

• Kars opened his mouth, ready to scold you for startling him so terribly and making him think that you were in some sort of real danger when suddenly... it all truly dawned on him.

• You were scared of the dark. This was legit and real, tangible fear to you... and you turned to him because you were afraid enough to think you needed protection.

• Frowning, he carried you to the couch and sat down, cradling you in his arms and allowing you to cling to him as tightly as you wanted. The storm continued to crash and rumble in the distance; it was likely the power would not be back on until morning.

• He wasn't going to let you sit in the dark all by yourself; struck with terror and crying inconsolably like so until dawn.

• "Shhhh, it's alright, my little light." He whispered, smoothing his big palm over your back as you continued to cry. "Close your eyes and it won't be so dark and listen to my voice..."

• As you did so, he encouraged you to take deep breaths, waiting for you to calm down just a little before carrying out his next action.

• "Just listen to me, breathe... that's it. And again... don't focus on anything else, just the sound of my voice." His breath tickled your ear as he spoke softly, buried in the crook of his neck.

• You could feel him smile softly against your skin, "Now, I want you to imagine that you're outside, standing in the loveliest field you've ever seen. Rows upon rows of colourful flowers greet you under the warm, golden sun..."

• Kars talked quietly to you for a good long while, calming you down and taking you on a trip via your mind as he rubbed your back; distracting you completely from your fear.

• The darkness shrouded both of you until morning but you had long forgotten about it, Kars' soft voice had lulled you into a deep sleep.

• He made sure from then on to take extra precautions for your fears and you could always count on him to console you and help you if the dark ever came around.

• Even though he was above phobias, he wasn't above your needs.

Esidisi:

• Esidisi laughed in the face of fears; spiders, heights, closed spaces, you name it! Anything of the like were nothing in his eyes.

• He had gotten so used to not fearing anything standing in his path, he forgot the fact that other people did indeed have legit fears.

• That didn't help the fact that he liked to tease people for being afraid of something (mostly when they were afraid of him).

• Because of that, you never told him that you were afraid of the dark; you were afraid he'd laugh at you or worse, tell you to grow up.

• Esidisi ended up finding out about your fear first hand one night when the power unexpectedly went out due to a powerline being hit somewhere on your grid.

• You had been sitting on the couch next to Esidisi, watching T.V when all of a sudden the T.V clicked off, the fan stopped spinning, the low hum of the fridge fell silent; everything quickly went dark.

• Immediately, you froze up, hands flying to your mouth to stiffle the shriek that wanted to rip through you as nothing but an infinite wall of black hit your vision.

• You tried to hold your composure, inevitably crumbling in the face of your worst fear. Terror squeezed your heart and lungs painfully, your head spun, the only thing keeping you grounded was a little voice in your head screaming "Don't panic!"

• Esidisi frowned, looking around the dark room. "Hmm, and I was enjoying that show too..." he groaned quietly, turning his gaze to you.

• He could see you clear as day where you sat, paralyzed, and a chuckle passed his lips; he thought you were just in shock from the sudden outage.

• "Oh, what's the matter, dear? Don't tell me you're scared now!" He laughed, prodding you in the side with a finger.

• His laughter fell silent when you didn't respond and he suddenly took notice of the fact that you were shaking, your hands gripping the couch like a vice, your breaths were starting to come quickly and audibly.

• That look on your face hit him square in the gut, he could now see the tears trickling down your cheeks... Oh... OH!

• The moment it dawned on him, he felt absolutely terrible. Why didn't he see this sooner?!

• Your could hear him rustling around in the dark (at least you prayed that it was Esidisi fumbling around) but couldn't see him of course.

• You let out a yelp in surprise when two hands suddenly grabbed you by the hips and you were picked up, dropped into a familiar and warm lap.

• Light. A single golden and red flame of a candle licking at the air hit your eyes blindingly from where it stood on the coffee table, captivating you in mere seconds with its brightness. Another lit. Then another. And another!

• Before you was an entire table of lit candles, casting the once endlessly dark livingroom in a soft warm glow. Surprised, you turned your eyes back to meet the loving smile of Esidisi, his olive skin ruddy in the candlelight.

• "There. Not so dark now, is it?" He asked, only hugging you closer. The warmth of his embrace was soothing, the light and the safety of his arms ebbing your fears just a little.

• He chuckled as you breathed out an audible sigh of relief, he could feel the tension drain from your body as you sank deeper into his hold.

• "You know, it's actually a very good meditative practice to sit and focus on the light of a candle." He murmured, a massive and heated hand wrapping around yours. "It stimulates the mind and helps soothe too. Perhaps we can try it for a bit, since there's nothing on Television..."

• Rest assured; Esidisi would never laugh at your fears. No matter what they were or how childish they seemed.

• As long as you had him around, he would act as your beacon in the darkness.

Wamuu:

• Like many people, Wamuu outgrew his fears.

• As a Pillarchild he was afraid of a few things but as he grew under his Masters tutelage and weaned to be a Fighter, he learned to face those fears and use them to harden himself into a Warrior.

• Now as a fully grown Pillarman, Wammu didn't hold fear for anything; fears would only give an opponent an advantage and any he had only drove him to cast them aside when they happened to arouse.

• He once told you about the many fears he overcame (you had asked him what he was like when he was small) and he questioned if you had done the same.

• You were quite the opposite. Hesitantly, you told him you still held quite a fear for the dark. You never conquered it.

• This surprised Wamuu but he didn't look down on you for it and he surprised you in turn when he asked if you wanted some help in learning to try and overcome your phobia.

• You accepted his offer and he began to "train" you gradually.

• He'd start by turning off "unnecessary" lights; like simple nightlights you'd keep on in hallways or lights not being used in another room. Then He'd move into having the room partially dark or having the hall dark with the bedroom door open while you slept.

• He never once pushed you and never went too far by putting you in complete dark.

• However, one night, an unexpected power outage hit the town. Immediately, you found yourself practically jumping into your Mates arms as the entire house was encased in darkness.

• "Breathe, my beloved." The Pillarman told you, a hand rubbing over your head. He let you grab onto him all you wanted watching over you in the dark. "Remember all our training together, the dark cannot hurt you. The dark is nothing, it does not wield weapons and it cannot strike..."

• You'd try. You'd try with all your might. Breathing so hard your lungs burned, trying to focus but failing and feeling yourself slowly becoming more consumed by your fear.

• However, this was an improvement. Had Wamuu not spent so much time "training" you, you would be absolutely screaming your head off right now.

• Tears prickled in your eyes. Your ears hypersensitive to every sound around you, almost jumping in your seat every time a floor creaked or the wind outside brushed against the house.

• It was slowly becoming too much to handle with every passing second. It was just too much! It was just too dark!

• Wamuu smiled softly, only holding you closer to him and allowing you to bury yourself in his neck; if it meant you felt safe, he would let you do so all you wanted.

• The Warrior put himself back to when he was a Child, remembering how he had clung to his Masters when struck with fear...

• He felt terrible you were still living and feeling such real fear to this day.

• Quietly, Wamuu began to hum an old lullaby. The vibrations of his wide and hard chest sent shivers through your whole body, like you were sitting in a massage chair at the Mall.

• His voice was deep and rich, the tune and the power of its tone distracting you of the fact you were sitting in complete darkness and keeping you grounded.

• Music had always helped him when he was scared and his Masters had always been excellent singers. It would seem he had the power to bestow the same effect on you.

• He sat there, holding you close and humming until you stopped shivering; he helped you only focus on him and not the darkness shrowding you.

• "Even though you cannot see, I can." He murmured, watching as you struggled to keep awake any longer; eyes falling open and closed helplessly.

• "I will keep watch and protect you in the dark." Those words were what sent you off to sleep in his arms. "I will always keep you safe, my little Warrior, until you feel ready to fight for youself."

• Wamuu could only hope he'll be a good enough teacher to help you until one day, you weren't afraid anymore.

Santana:

• Very similar to Wamuu, Santana had fears of his own as a small child.

• He wasn't as brave as Wamuu when it came down to facing them, more often he would learn to find ways to distract himself from his fears rather than find ways to overcome them.

• To this day, Santana feared very little but he never really showed that fear in him to onlookers.

• After getting a strange letter in the mail, Santana wouldcome to learn that you didn't hide your fears as well as he.

• He didn't know what a "planned outage" was but he simply deemed the notice "junk mail" (as you called it) and disposed of it.

• One day later, at around 8:30pm, the power shut off.

• "S-Santana!" You cried, eyes darting around helplessly in the darkness where you stood in the middle of the livingroom, knees quaking and too afraid to move a muscle. "Santana, wh-where are you?!"

• His head poked into the room, eyes falling on you with immediate confusion.

• "Help!" You were practically choking on your words now, the Pillarman stared in shock as you started to bawl. "Please, please help! It's dark! It's too dark!"

• His nostrils flared, he could practically smell the fear off you now as he watched you cower before him in the darkness. It was all too familiar to him.

• Without another thought he dashed back into the kitchen, the sounds of him fumbling around in the drawers hit your ears and only added to your ongoing anxiety.

• "San-Santana?!" You whimpered, thoughts of an intruder or unseen danger running rapidly through your head as the footsteps came back.

• Click! You were blinded by a bright blast of light, squinting and holding a hand against the powerful beam directed onto you. Santana stood before you with a flashlight in hand; the biggest and brightest one in the house.

• You breathed a sigh of utter relief, your throat stinging painfully from the gut wrenching and primal shot of fear you had just undergone, as you reached to take the flashlight.

• Santana, however, had other plans.

• In a split second, you were pushed down into the armchair and the flashlight dropped into your lap; its beam shinning onto the wall across the room.

• "What-- What are--?" The words died on your tongue as a shadow suddenly appeared in the beam. The shape of a dog.

• "Woof." Santana's voice was as deep and deadpan as always as he moved his fingers, making the dog "bark" for you. The antics only stunned and confused you for a solid moment before his hands shifted to cast the shape of a duck. "Quack."

• Shadow puppets? A little giggle rose up inside of you as you kept watching, suddenly utterly captivated and very entertained.

• Santana wasn't the best at putting sounds to the shapes he cast but he was most excellent at using his hands to make very convincing silhouettes.

• In fact; he made you laugh so hard at one point by trying to convincingly "Meow" you were rocking in the chair!

• When the lights came back on suddenly, you blinked in absolute shock. A whole hour had passed and you had completely forgotten about the fact that you had been sitting in the dark the whole time!

• Santana smiled softly as you looked at him, gobsmacked. "How-- Why did--" You couldn't even form the words. "I am afraid of heights." His voice cut you off, the words spoken only stunning you further into silence.

• His eyes cast to the floor, "I am afraid of falling." He continued. "When I am somewhere up high, I try to focus on the sky or the birds or the stars rather than down below. When I am distracted, I am not afraid."

• You could only blink at this revelation. Santana just confided that he had fears of his own and he had spent the past hour making sure to distract you from yours.

• Next time, when the power went out or when you were sitting somewhere way up high, the both of you were well prepared to distract one another and laugh the time away until it was over...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #pillarmen headcanons #kars x reader #wamuu x reader #esidisi x reader #santana x reader #anon ask #my writing

[tenkoscumslut]

Hawks x reader (angst)

(credit to _yorixxxx on tiktok they inspired this)

Your mind was in its own universe, walking through a rich meadow, the smell of blue gold filling up your senses, it was almost time to go home, almost.  You almost leapt out of your chair when the clock hit 5, you little fantasy vanished, forgotten, like you.  

You couldn’t help but smile as you walked home, it was months after the incident, months.  Kiego had promised to never do it again, promised and promised and promised, but all of them were lies, though you were to blind to see it.  The familiar streets were your comfort area, you loved your life, you loved your boyfriend, his affection, your apartment, your job, everything.

As you flirted with the keys, trying to find the right one, you managed to find it.  It opened up his apartment, tonight was date night, he always did the sweetest things, he would take you out on late night flights, kiss your forehead and apologize for that one night.  His words were meaningless, but they filled you with happiness.

Before you were drowning, you head was submerged underwater and you could swim to the surface.  You were exhausted, even though it was right there, it was so close, it was in your grasp, you could never reach it.  Thats when Hawks came, he made you go head over heels for him, he was your savior, he was the one who saved you.  He picked you up, letting you take deep breaths of the fresh air, and you loved it.  You were addicted to it.

So when you opened the door, and saw another pair of shoes, you didn’t mind, you didn’t even think about any bad outcomes of this.  You quietly closed the door and set your shoes next to his, assuming he had a coworker over.  You walked up the steps into the living room, and there was Hawks with his “coworker”.

You couldn’t move, they were to loud to notice you, her loud moans, his grunts of pleasure, you could barely believe what you saw.  No, Hawks would never cheat on you, you knew Hawks, or did you.  You knew the hero, the man who saved others, the man who never broke someones heart.  But did you really know Kiego, did you know how he broke hearts, how he was a lying cheating bastard who was so toxic he couldn’t recognize your feelings.

“Hawks?”, you whimpered softly, not even knowing how to react to the lewd scene in front of you.  They both stopped, the girl, panting, a huge blush on her face turned to Hawks, “Hawks, who’s this?”, she asked trying to catch her breath.  Kiego stuttered, “J-just an old friend babe, Y/N, can you leave?’, he asked with...what was it? Irritation? Annoyance? Anger?.  

“Old friend?”, you repeated, “Were dating Hawks!”, you exclaimed, tears beginning to form, the girl clambered off of him, quickly putting on her clothes, “What the fuck do they mean Kiego?! You said you weren’t with anyone!”, she shouted.  “Y/N is lying, I don’t know them!”, he shouted, pulling up his boxers.

“You know what?! Get out! Both of you!”, you shouted over them, Kiego looked at you, shock in his eyes, the girl walked past you, she looked just as broken as you, “I’m sorry”, she whispered and quickly left the scene.  You stared at the ground, your fists were placed at your sides, Kiego walked up to you.  That voice, it made you fill up with joy, but know it felt so wrong to hear him.  “Babybird, listen to me, she didn’t mean anything”, he said.  Empty.  His words were fucking empty.

You wanted to screech, kill him, you wanted to wreck him, make him feel what you were going through.  “I already said get out Kiego” you managed to say, not bothering to speak in hopes of your voice not cracking up.  You looked up at him, those eyes, so beautiful, so ethereal.  You always thought he would only look at you like that, with so much love and passion, but behind it was emptiness.  He fucking used you.

To him you were a doll to be played with, a fucking sex toy.  You gritted your teeth when he didn’t move, instead tried to embrasse you in a hug, “Get the fuck off of me!”, you shouted, the tears finally spilling out while you kicked him, punched him, scratched him.  He didn’t let go, he couldn’t, Kiego was to selfish, he wanted you, he wanted a side chick, he wanted to fuck anyone he could but he couldn’t have you leave his side.

You were his other half, his soulmate, he truly loved you, yet he continued to hurt you, over and over and over and over.  It hurt him, sometimes he wouldn’t realize he was kissing someone else, he would try and imagine they were you, that it was your soft lips caressing his own.  That is was your walls clamping down on him, and it was your moans every time he hit their sweet spot.  Seeing you, without that smile, without that look like he was your everything made him break.

He fucking hurt you.  He did that.  “Get out Kiego!”, that was the last shout, he let go, knowing you couldn’t be with him anymore, his heart was strangled as he slowly walked over to the entrance, he’d let you stay at his apartment until you could leave.  He would give you the space he needed.  With one last look of sorrow, he left.

~~~

As the months went by, you had found a new job, away from Kiego, a knew boyfriend, a home, a new life.  It was perfect, Dabi was perfect, all that time thinking Kiego had saved you, all those times you felt like he was your savior was lies.  He blinded you, choked you, drugged you into thinking you were happy, but Dabi was your real savior.  He opened your eyes, showed you the world, real affection and loyalty, trust, everything you could possibly imagine.

Though Dabi did have his flaws, like almost burning the kitchen down when his ramen didn’t turn out perfect, he was amazing, and truly loved you.  Dabi would never go behind your back, and you would never go behind his. Ever.  

As for Kiego, he was a wreck, bringing home girls almost everyday.  They weren’t the same, they never were, you were truly one of a kind.  He was sobbing, he was forgetting your touch, your lips, you voice, it was all fading away.  He was desperately trying to salvage what was left of you, he had pictures of you in his bedroom, he cooked your favorite foods, he only dated people who looked like you but it was never enough.

Every night, their moans never riled him up, their lips wrapped around him never was the same, they never tasted as good as you, their kissed weren’t as sweet or filled with love.  Their eyes never held the same fire as yours, never the same passion.  Your sweet smell was slowly fading away to, one of the only things he had left.  

he had even bought the same perfume you would wear just to scent things and try to keep it in pristine condition.  As for the girl he was dating behind your back, seeing her walk into his office everyday made him gag, she couldn’t even compete against you.  

After months of not being able to hear your voice, enough was enough, he opened up your contact, there were tons of messages from you, left on read from when he was cheating on you and he didn’t bother to reply.  His fingers manuevered over the keyboard.

He didn’t know how to start this off, would he say sorry? Hi? How are you?, he then just settled on Hey, nothing really complex or to formal.  His heart was beating faster than ever, he set himself down at his counter, his wings flapping lightly at the prospect of you replying.

You were making dinner, just some rice and fish since you didn’t feel like making something to extravagant.  Your phone dinged next to Dabi who was watching a show, he lifted up your phone, narrowing his eyes at the unknown number.

He stood up and walked over to you, unlocking your phone to look at the message, “Hey, doll, who’s this?”, he asked, staring at the conversation before you found out Hawks was a cheating bastard.  You had deleted his contact, thinking you also blocked him.  You grabbed your phone and looked at the message, trying to remember who it was.  “i do-”, you cut yourself off when you saw the previous text messages.

“It’s my ex, you don’t need to worry about him”, you said, turning your phone off and kissing Dabi softly.  He hummed happily, his hands snacking around your waist and massaging your inner thighs.  You turned off the stove and fully turned around to kiss him, things quickly escalated, your bra was off and your panties were thrown somewhere.

Dabi was on his knees, your legs on his shoulders while he devoured you, you tugged at the roots of his hair, whining and moaning for him, crying out with he hit the perfect place.  Your orgasm was quickly building up, and then your phone rang.  Dabi pulled away from your lower lips, a scowl on his face while he glared at your phone for ruining the mood.

You picked it up, scowling when you saw it was Hawks, you did not want to talk to him, “Who is it?”, Dabi asked, tracing circles into your thighs, “my ex”, you grumbled, your thumb was about to press decline but Dabi stopped you,  “Answer it babe”, he said, you whined softly, “Why?”.  He smirked, “Do it baby, for daddy~”, he said, you pouted and answered the phone and brought it up to your ear.

Hawks wings were flapping widley when you picked up, his heart was racing, he wanted so savor your voice, memorise it, imprint it in his brain so when he manages to win you back its like you never broke up.  Like he never cheated.  Like he really was your savior.

Dabi leaned back down, and started to kiss your lower lips, his tongue traveling over your clit.  You held back a moan and managed to greet your ex, “Hello Kiego”, you said, you were greeted with a happy Hello.  Hearing his voice made sadness seep into your heart, but you were through with him, you were done, you had Dabi.  

“Why are you calling me”, you asked, your hand slithering down to pull at Dabis hair, you knew being this close to your orgasm, plus the thrill of being on the phone with Hawks was only going to end in something bad.  Dabis skilled tongue pushed into your sopping wet hole.  Your hand quickly covered your mouth, staffing another moan.

“I-I guess I just missed you...”, Hawks mumbled from the other end, “I was a fucking dick to you, I cheated on you twice and thats not right”.  Your orgasm was quickly building up again, Dabi removed his tongue and easily pushed in 2 digits, his mouth started working on your clit.  Your thighs clamped down on his head, trying to make this oh so more pleasurable.

“I was wondering you know...if we could start talking again?”, he asked, Dabi then hit the special spot he knew by memory, you couldn’t help but moan loudly.  A huge blush adorned to your face, “U-Um a-are you busy right now? C-cuz I can t-talk later?”, he suggested.  “N-no, I want to finish this conversation”, you mumbled, “I just ran into the corner of my dresser”, you lied.  Dabi was pinching at your thigh, you knew he didn’t want you to hang up.

Hawks was leaning back into the chair, a generous amount of lube coated his hand, he gripped at the base of his dick, squeezing softly, trying to replicate your walls.  He bit his lip, god just you alone had him painfully hard, and the moan that came out of the other end of the phone was the cherry on top.  His thumb ran over his sensitive head, over his sensitive slit, and rubbed back and forth.  At this rate Hawks could cum any second.

“Could we maybe meet up at the building I use to fly us to?”, he asked.  You bit your lip, another moan rising up, your release was so fucking close, you could feel it.  Your hand gripped at his wrist, not wanting him to pull away and take your sweet release with it.  “S-sure”, you were in a daze, Dabis wrist snapped forward, roughly hitting your sweet spot.  Your eyes rolled back, your body spasming and your walls fluttering around his digits.  Your sweet juices leaked out of your spasming hole.  Dabi removed his fingers and quickly started to lap at the juices.

You thought you hung up, your thumb missed and instead you put him on speaker, you started to moan and cry out, it was turning into to much, “Y/N..?”, you heard hawks through the speaker. “FUCK!”, you shouted, quickly hanging up before you could reply.  Dabi was laughing, and your face was flared with embarrassment.  He got up from his kneeling position and helped you off the counter.

Your knees were wobbly underneath you, Dabi carried you to the bed and finished what he started.

The mess on Hawks chest, there were no words to describe it.  He had cummed harder than he has ever cummed before, the thick white liquid shot out in thick salty white ropes.  His post orgasm soon kicked in, a hollow feeling burned in his chest.  He wished it was you instead of them, he wished he payed attention to you.

He wished he brought you around to parties since he knew how much you loved to dance, he wished he brought you flowers, and held your hand, he should’ve given you all his hours when he had the chance.  But know your dancing, but your dancing with another man.

And although it hurts, he’d be the first to say he was wrong, but he hoes he buys you flowers, and holds your hand, take you to every party because he remembers how much you love to dance.

#angst #mha hawks #hawks smut #pro hero hawks #hawk #bnha hawks #hawks headcanons #hawks #wing hero hawks #dabi #dabi headcanons #dabi x y/n #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi fluff #dabi smut #kiego x reader #kiego takami #kiego

[yandere-romanticaa]

The votes are in and the winner is: Shuu Sakamaki! I hope you guys like this!

Yandere Alphabet.

ft. Shuu Sakamaki. 💛

A - Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Shuu's affection is simple but subtle. He always has an arm around his darling, even while he is sleeping. By doing this not only is he keeping his darling close but he is also telling the world that they are his and off limits. A win win situation.

As for intensity, Shuu isn't a very intense yandere compared to his brothers but that doesn't make him any less possessive. If his darling tries to leave he will complain and he will end up drinking their blood and marking them. Can't let little darling think they have so much freedom now, can he?

B - Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Hmmm, not too messy tbh. As lazy as he is, once Shuu actually decides to do something he will finish it. As the eldest brother he just has some experience that the others do not and because of that he can probably just use his words to intimidate rivals.

He will throw hands if anyone gets too close though.

C - Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He would definetly be a bit of a tease even though he does complain a lot. At first he's just annoyed, why is his darling being so noisy? It's driving him nuts! But then again, there are days when he finds darlings desparate face especially amusing and a small smirk finds its way on to Shuu's face. s/o little screams and whispers soon become Shuu's favorite thing to listen to.

D - Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

No actually, believe it or not. The only thing Shuu will do is drink darlings blood. The guy has to, you know, eat? He isn't super sadistic like most of his brothers and he really won't do anything harsh unless he is jealous or really mad.

E - Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Shuu would prefer it if his darling was the more sensitive one, that just brings him greater piece of mind. Most of the time he just doesn't really talk about his feelings which can make Shuu a bit of an enigma. But after being with him for a while, s/o will pick up on the subtle signs in case Shuu is irritated or anything of the sorts. His grip always seems to be especially tight then.

F - Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Sad and disappointed. He actually does love his darling but a part of him also gets why they are doing it. It doesn't make it any bothersome though... Please, just... love him, okay?

G - Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Shuu might say it i to tease but it's not. He sees no point in meaningless flings, this the long run. And Shuu would be heartbroken if darling tried to leave - darling is like a lost puppy in Shuu's eyes, he has to protect them at all costs, he has to.

H - Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Whenever he gets jealous, plain and simple. He just hates it when his brothers get touchy feely with his s/o and Shuu always drags s/o away to his room, his face showing no emotion but the look in his eye says it all.

A rough and sleepless night awaits...

I - Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He never had any plans but he wouldn't mind staying in the Sakamaki household with his s/o. With his home and lovely spouse, Shuu would be on cloud nine.

J - Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

You bet he does, painfully so. He is able to hide it most of the time but if someone just flat out flirts or touches his s/o, Shuu is by their side ready to fight.

K - Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Normal, for the most part. He will probably become affectionate over time though, even downright shameless if he feels like it.

L - Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He doesn't really know what he is doing but he will try to put in the effort even if it doesn't look like it. He treats them normally for the most part but there is a subtle soft side reserved for his darling only.

M - Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He's pretty much the same 24/7 but if he gets mad his more sadistic side will be a bit more obvious. He'll wipe the floor with anyone if they dare challenge him.

N - Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Heck yeah. Sharp bites, a few slaps, teasing little licks, it varies with Shuu. He mostly just bites their neck to shut them up but he isn't afraid to use more force if need be. He'd rather not though.

O - Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

All depends on darlings behaviour. If they act accordingly he won't really care, just as long they aren't too far away from him that is. But in case darling decides to do something stupid, Shuu will put his foot down.

P - Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Depends what it is really. He will try to be reasonable but if his darling keeps making a fuss that patience will run thin.

Q - Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Never. Shuu would never let this go, the grief would just consume him and destroy him, he won't even bother stopping it. He is nothing without his live and he would have a hard time moving on if this happened.

R - Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No, not really. He did because he had to, and he did it to protect them. He just hopes darling will realize that one day.

S - Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Shuu can get very insecure and because of that he wants his darling to always be by his side, that way he can always protect them. He doesn't want to lose them, Shuu wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he were to lose yet enother loved one...

T - Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

"What a pain."

He will grumble to himself and this kind of behaviour won't be tolerated for too long. Yeah, it's cute to hear darlings pleas for help but Jesus do not shout.

U - Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Well yes but no. He does do the usual things such as kidnapping but it's his attitude towards it that makes him stand out. He calls everything a pain and an annoyance, why can't darling just come to him? He'll treat them nicely...

V - Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

No, actually. He loves being spolied rotten with affection and he often catches himself falling for darling's sweet words but Shuu isn't dumb. As lazy as he is, he is smart, very much so, and he can tell if his little songbird is plotting something. He just knows, don't even bother finding out how.

W - Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes. Mostly by sucking darlings blood, which can get a bit rough. Shuu just loves to mark his little darling up with his deep love bites, just seeing them so out in the open, it gives him a real sense of pride. He especially loves it when Reiji complains that darling should cover up but Shuu merely replies with a smirk and just brings darling closer, much to Reiji's dismay.

X - Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He will try to court his darling but he'll just give up halfway and kidnap them. It's a lot easier that way, you know? And Shuu wouldn't exactly worship his darling, but they make up a huge chunk of his world and he wouldn't really know what to do without them in the end.

Y - Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

For quite a while, actually. Shuu might appear as though that he couldn't care less, but he does, he really does. He tells himself that darlings feelings are irrelevant but he doesn't mean that, ever. He wants them to actually be happy, to be happy with him.

Z - Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Intentionally? Never. He fell for them for a reason, he doesn't want them to change. But he will leave long lasting scars on his darling which will affect darlings psyche. And there just might be a chance that darling dearest might not be able to handle those deep wounds.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere alphabet #yandere male #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers x reader #yandere diabolik lovers x reader #yandere diabolik lovers #yandere shuu sakamaki x reader #yandere shuu sakamaki #shuu sakamaki #shuu sakamaki x reader

[mysteryartisticwriter]

Y’ALL

While everyone is either freaking out about the alternate Lokis and whatever that Sylvie and Loki shit is, I feel like a lot of people aren’t looking at other parts of the episode.

“I looked happy.”

Even in the rain, it was clear that B-15 was crying. She looked so sad to find out that everything that she thought was right was really just a lie. Her voice was breaking and soft for the very first and only time in this whole show and it just makes me so upset knowing that literally everyone in the TVA had a life, they were happy, and they were stolen away from it.

Another thing is when Sylvie asks Ravonna about what her own Nexes Event was. After all these years of running, she didn’t know the real reason for her arrest. And Ravonna couldn’t even remember why.

“It must have had to be important. So what was it?”

“I can’t remember.”

That just shows how much the people in the TVA like Ravonna don’t even care about these varients or how they’re treated (proof of that in the beginning of the episode). They don’t care about how small the Nexes event was, they only care about this “Sacred Timeline”.

Sylvie’s Nexes must have had to be something so small that after decades of trying to capture her since she was a little girl, they didn’t even bother to remember the true reason. All they knew was that she was “dangerous” and a variant.

Sylvie looked so shattered after Ravonna told her, like everything was just meaningless at that point. She probably thought that she did something terrible that not even she knew what it was to get herself arrested. And she was just a kid.

So just imagine how many innocent children and people the TVA had arrested and pruned, and they didn’t even know what they had done. Imagine the amount of times the TVA had to deal with a scared and crying child who had no clue why they were there.

#loki #loki series #loki 2021 #loki show #loki disney+ #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #time keepers #sylvie #lady loki #loki spoilers #tva #time variance authority #i wanna cry #*SCREAMS* #i am not okay #sadness #spoilers