#and i feel like daring SHOULD’VE been written like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xzaddyzanakinx · 9 months ago

Text

Dear Diary

Emo!Anakin Skywalker x Femme reader Oneshot

Warnings: CNC, Dom/Sub, predator/prey, rape kink, unprotected PiV, misogyny, derogatory comments, knife, bondage, gagging, blood, whipping, spanking, spitting, slapping, biting, mask kink

Info: never leave your diary unattended, he loves you so much that he’ll do anything for you, don’t question why Anakin is so good at being scary (he’s straight up terrifying)

🕊DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT 🕊 This is DARK

“Hey, you know there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” Anakin’s soft voice floated down to where your head rested in his lap on this sleepy Sunday afternoon.

“Mmm?” You hummed, tilting your head slightly to look up at his face.

You expected to see a soft expression to match the gentle tone of voice, but you were mistaken. His lip had a sneaky little curve to it, like he had a secret that he was dying to share. He reached his long arm over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. Fishing something out and holding it up for you to see.

Your diary. It wasn’t one of his secrets. It was yours.

You squealed in protest and shot up from your resting place much too fast. After being sedentary all day long your brain had a hard time remembering what it needed to do in a high-stakes situation. After the dizzy spell settled slightly you tried and failed to snatch that horrid little book away from him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

You should’ve known better than to keep a written record of anything, let alone your darkest secrets, with Anakin around. That handsome little shit can’t keep his dirty little paws off of your or your stuff.

“Anakin please!” You pleaded, pouting out your bottom lip.

“Shhh baby.” He laughed, flipping through the pages. “I occasionally read a few pages… just to make sure you’re happy with me of course.”

Right. Of course he would do that.

“Cause sometimes you don’t like to talk about your feelings right?” He chided.

“Yeah.” You grumbled.

“And it seems like my sweet sweet girl had some dirty thoughts since the last time I checked this book.” A sickly saccharine smile materialized on his lips

“Anakin no!” You gasped, hiding your face in embarrassment.

“Bunny, yes!” He teasingly replied.

“Look, right here it is princess. About a month ago. I took you to that new horror movie remember?”

“Yes.” You squeaked.

Anakin nodded, clearing his throat as he ran his finger under the messy scribbles in your diary.

“You said: ‘that scene where he’s chasing her through the woods and caught her? Christ that growl was sinful, but coming from Anakin? I’d be a goner. Knife and all.’”

You blushed fiery red and snatched it from his hands, tossing it to the floor defiantly despite knowing the damage had already been done.

"Anakin that is none of your business!" You pouted.

"But it is now, isn't it?" He whispered, tracing circles on your throat with his thumb.

"It’s okay darlin’ I don’t need that silly little book. I’ve memorized the good parts.” He chuckled as he spotted it on the floor.

“What else did you say? 'I want him rough, maybe even have him wear a mask like in the movie.'” He grinned gripping your cheeks to puff out your lips and give you a playful kiss.

“So I said to myself: ‘Anakin, that sounds like a challenge.’ and you know I love a challenge.”

“Anakin! You weren’t supposed to see that!” You yelped. “That’s embarrassing!”

Anakin chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh no? I think I need to see this fantasy of yours come true."

He released your cheeks and stood up, rummaging through the closet until he found an old hockey mask that he'd worn during his youth.

"Stay here," he commanded before disappearing into the living room.

You sat and stewed in your embarrassment, thinking of all the ways you’d like to squeeze his tiny head until it popped off. How dare he? He read your diary! Ridiculous.

His voice called your name and you were snapped out of your emotional festering.

“C’mon. We got places to be.” Anakin grinned, the car keys in his hand and a small backpack slung over his shoulder.

“What?” You asked in confusion.

He wants to go somewhere now? After he’d just humiliated you in front of your entire collection of stuffed animals?

Anakin nodded, a devilish grin on his face. "We're going on an adventure, Bunny."

Oh. Oh no.

“You’re serious?” You gasped. “like right now?”

He tossed the backpack into the backseat of his Ford pickup truck and opened the passenger door for you, waiting for you to get in. He clicked his tongue like he was calling for a dog, patting your head to scoot you along.

"Come on, baby," he urged, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Where we're going, no one can find us."

You blushed, but obeyed regardless. You trusted him with your life and depending on how this excursion went you might just end up putting that trust to the test.

“W-we don’t have to do this Ani.” You said quietly.

“I mean… I never even- I didn’t think you’d ever find out.”

Anakin's grin faded slightly, his eyes softening as he cupped your face. "Baby, it's okay. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with," he reassured you.

"I want to make this happen for you. Plus, I think this will be fun." He added with a smirk, the sincerity in his voice reflected in the icy blue of his eyes.

He climbed into the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of your driveway.

“Like you’re sure you wanna do this? Like you actually want to? Not just because you know I wanna try it?” You asked, picking at your fingers as you forced myself to make eye contact.

Anakin met your gaze, his eyes filled with an understanding for your concerns. "I want this as much as you do, Bunny," he promised.

"So let's go have some fun, shall we?" he asked, pulling out onto the highway.

You slipped your hand into his, the drive was only about 30 minutes. Even with the short distance it seemed like you were far, far away from anyone and anything. The afternoon sun was dwindling quickly over the horizon. It made you wonder if Anakin had done alittle research and a lot of planning before enacting this ambush on you.

“Look at me bunny.” Anakin said softly.

“Safe word is red okay? You say red and every thing stops immediately. Understand?”

“Yes.” You nodded giving him a little smile.

“Good.” He agreed with a kiss to your forehead. His eyes bright and sparkling with this new brand of adrenaline. “Here’s the plan.”

“Once we get out of this truck, you’re the pretty little victim and I’m the big scary killer.” He teased, though he held a serious tone behind the playful words.

“Is that okay? I won’t talk like myself, I’m gonna do my best to be mean and scary okay?”

“Yeah that’s okay,” You blushed at the thought.

“I want you to run. I’ll give you a pretty good head start. Don’t look behind you until you hit the tree line okay?” He grinned.

“Okay I can do that.” You giggled, the reality of your situation kicking in as you began to realize Anakin *had* done his research. He really did want to do this just as much as you did.

“I’ve got a mask.” He pulled out the hockey mask from his bag. “A rope, a knife, and a bandanna. Are these things okay? It’s a real knife, it’s one of the kitchen knives.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, biting your lip as you looked at him, already imagining him in character. “yeah that’s all okay.”

“Do you want me to cut you?” He asked, staring you in the eyes.

“M-maybe alittle.” You nodded, your expression turned serious again. “just not where anyone else can see okay?”

“Got it babydoll. I promise.” He said gently.

“Okay.” You smiled, nervous but so so excited.

“I’m gonna put my hair up.” You giggled. Tying your hair up in a ponytail.

Anakin watched you, a mix of excitement and protectiveness in his eyes. "You look so fucking hot," he muttered, his voice low and rough.

"Alright, princess," he said, his voice now deep and menacing. He grabbed the hockey mask, and held it in your direction to point at you.

"Get out of the truck and run as fast as you can. Don't look back until you reach the tree line." He paused, reaching for the knife, sheathing it on his hip. Shoving the rope in his hoodie pocket, the bandanna in his jeans pocket.

"Remember, red means stop. Whatever happens from here on out, I'll make sure you're safe."

You watched him put the mask on, heart pounding in your chest as you unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out of the truck into the cooling dusk air. Anakin got out of the truck on his side, looking over at you and nodding his head.

“Run.” He snarled, his features completely hidden by the mask and distorting his voice a bit more than you’d anticipated.

Your only light source was the setting sun and rising moon as you booked it through the field, keeping your eyes forward as your heart beat quickly. You reached the tree line and finally looked back, seeing Anakin running at a full sprint toward you. The prey instinct in your hindbrain kicked into overdrive and adrenaline flooded like ice through your veins.

You froze for a moment until you heard what could only be described as a psychotic laugh ripped through Anakin’s chest. Finally back to your senses you turned on your toes and started running again, only to be tripped by your own feet.

You steadied yourself quickly and recovered your pace after a sharp squeal left you when your knees hit the ground. Your burst of fear driven speed surprised you, but only fueled Anakin’s laughter. You weren’t sure if he was laughing as himself or as the character he was playing, either way… it was terrifying.

You made the mistake of looking back again and realized how quickly he was gaining on you. He had given you a generous headstart for a good reason. Like he’d anticipated you’d fawn instead of flee.

How did he know that?

Anakin was closing the gap, his breath heavy but not labored as he chased after you. You wondered what his eyes looked like behind that mask. Would they be familiar? Or would they be akin to a cold blooded killer?

You stumbled as you whipped your head back to the path ahead and he lunged forward, wrapping his arm around your chest and tackling you to the ground with a heavy thump.

The mask hid his grin as he pinned you down with his body weight, but you could * feel * it. The satisfaction he felt at catching his trophy was palpable, now… now you weren’t completely certain your Anakin was really there behind that hard plastic mask.

"Caught you bitch." He growled, his voice remained menacing. "You're mine now."

You struggled against him, the sides of your fists not even coming close to making contact with his chest. His grip on you was painful, bruising and just what you wanted.

“N-no!” You whimpered. So incredibly turned on by his aggression.

He was surprisingly great at this role, he was doing everything perfectly as if he’d done it before. A nagging thought tickled your mind, what if? But he gave you no time to consider it.

“No?” He laughed, rolling you underneath him so that your face was pressed into the forest floor. His knee pressing down on your back as he roughly tied your arms together behind your back with a practiced ease.

“No! Please!” He mocked you in a whiny impression of your voice.

“Pathetic.” He hissed.

You fought harder, wriggling and trying to get out of his grasp. His hand gripped your ponytail with enough force to make your scalp sting, yanking your head back.

“Stop fucking moving.” He growled as brought his lips to your ear, then he let go of your hair cruelly letting you face plant into the dirt.

“Ow!” You whined in pain, it actually did hurt. Not bad, just enough to make you see stars and feel heat bloom across your cheek.

“P-please! Stop!”

He laughed, the sound gritty and almost unrecognizable. He used both hands to roughly tug your jeans down your thighs, using the knife to cut your underwear off.

You wriggled and squirmed, panting helplessly as all your movement did was undress you further. Your jeans bunched around your knees, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to whatever he had planned for you.

Anakin's breaths were ragged, his heart pounding in sync with yours as he stood over you. Lightly tapping your hip with the toe of his shoe.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," He snarled. "You made me work for it."

He took the knife, running it down your side, as he kneeled beside you. Forcibly turning your head to make you look at him. He trailed the knife along the back of your thighs, leaving tiny threads of red behind.

"Now you're gonna pay for your insolence." His voice was harsh and cold with an undeniable lust hidden beneath.

“No! No I’ll do anything I swear!” You cried out. Kicking and fighting against him as best as you could.

You heard him taking off his belt, felt him shoving his jeans down and even the familiar grunt as he pulled out his cock.

“I told you to shut your fucking mouth didn’t I?” He snapped at you.

Gripping his belt tightly in his hands he cracked the leather across your ass hard, causing you to scream out in pain.

“Stupid whore.” He scoffed. “what did I just say? You want it again?”

“N-no! Fuck that hurt!” You yelled.

“God you really are stupid aren’t you?” He laughed, cracking the leather down on your red ass cheeks again.

This time you were able to bite down on your lip and suppress the loud crying moan that tried to escape. You knew the tender flesh of your bottom lip would definitely be an angry red for the next few days as a taste of blood hit your tongue.

“That’s better.” He scoffed.

Pumping his cock a few times behind you before spreading your ass cheeks wide and smacking your hip hard to get you to lift up just a bit.

He set his sights on your incredibly drenched pussy. The view might make a weaker man cum on the spot, but Anakin wasn’t a weak man. He’d made that very clear today.

“Never seen you so fucking wet.” He whispered, in awe of the dripping mess you’d made of your cunt. The momentary break of character that you weren’t supposed to hear reassured you that it was definitely still Anakin under that mask.

Anakin's cock twitched, his eyes locked on your pulsing hole, watching it flutter around nothing. He chuckled and spit on his hand before rubbing it on the head of his cock. Letting out a low groan as he tugged on his balls for good measure.

"You're going to take this like a good little slut," He growled, lining up his thickness with your entrance. "And you're not going to fucking scream."

With a low hiss he thrust into you, your body protesting the sudden intrusion with a jerk. You failed to listen to his command and let out a muffled cry behind closed lips as he sank deep inside your heat.

"Quiet, bitch," he warned, pulling back and thrusting again, setting a rough rhythm. "Or I'll really give you somethin’ to cry about.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you whimpered and moaned and drooled in spite of his warnings. The feeling of being taken so roughly, but knowing you were safe… was intoxicating. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt.

Anakin moved suddenly and you saw a flash of red before he yanked back your head, shoving the bandanna in your mouth to use as a gag.

You coughed and gagged on the dry fabric as he forced it in your mouth. Anakin's thrusts became more frantic, his hips moving in quick, hard strokes. With the gag in place you let yourself be loud, there was no point in staying quiet right? If you were heard it would be * his * fault for not properly securing your gag.

"Dirty little thing aren’t you? Filthy. You like this don’t you!? Huh?" He snarled, slapping your ass hard with his free hand. "Scream for me, you fucking whore. No body can hear you. No body is coming to help you."

You moaned into the gag, body trembling as he pounded into you relentlessly. Each slap of skin against wetness echoed in the still night air, punctuating your defilement.

"C’mon, you can fight harder than that." He growled, grinding against you he placed one hand on your lower back and used it as leverage to hold you in place.

He laughed loudly, clearly enjoying the power trip he was on. He’d never fucked you like this before, he’d been rough yes… but this? This was blinding. Hot, white, blinding pleasure that spilled over into pain.

“So fucking tight.” He groaned. “pitiful little pussy. Bet you were a virgin weren’t you?”

You whimpered, the bandanna in your mouth wet from saliva. Tears dripping down your cheeks from his rough treatment. Your legs shaking violently as he fucked you into the dirt.

And he expected you to speak?

“Answer me.” He demanded, ripping the fabric from your mouth, the suddenness of it being pulled from your throat made you gag violently.

“C’mon. Talk to me. You’ve been dying to fucking talk and now you’ve got nothin’ to say?”

“Y-yes.” You sobbed, unable to form more than a few words. “Virgin.”

“Oh I knew it. Fuckin’ knew it.” He groaned.

Anakin's thrusts grew more furious, his cock sliding in and out of your tight ‘virgin’ pussy with each word grunt and groan that fell from his pretty lips. His hand gripped your hair, pulling your head back when you started squirming out from under him again.

"You think you can get away from me? Think you can run? You’re mine now, bitch." He spat, slapping the side of your face. "I own your little cunt now."

You cried harder from the pain, tears streaming down your dirt streaked face as he continued to pound into you without mercy.

"No one else is gonna touch you. No one else is gonna have you." He growled, his words thick with possession.

“Gonna take you home. Tie you up.” He grunted. “Fuck you whenever I want.”

“No one’s gonna miss you are they?” He laughed, “Just a worthless little nobody aren’t you? Yeah, you are.”

“That’s okay though sweetheart.” He cooed, sweetness laced with venom. “I want you. I want you all to myself, show you that all you’re good for is this.”

He spit, ripping his mask off to bite you hard, leaving clear teeth marks on your shoulder. The mask hit the ground near your head and you stared at it with big wide red-rimmed eyes as a violent orgasm ripped through you. Your cunt spasmed around him, slick leaking out and coating your thighs.

The squelching noises filled you with a new wave of embarrassment and fresh tears wetted your cheeks. You might’ve been done, but Anakin wasn’t. He had no plans of stopping now, this wasn’t over until he said it was.

“Stop! Please oh god.” You whined, scrunching your nose up as your body vibrated from the overstimulation.

“Stop? Oh you don’t mean that.” He moaned. “you just fucking creamed all over my cock.”

“Don’t lie to me. You know you like it.” He snickered, you could hear the grin gracing his lips.

“No! No! Please! I don’t!” You struggled, trying to get out of your bindings, the rope digging further into your wrists. “Please stop!”

“Fuck toys don’t talk.” He growled.

Anakin shifted his weight, now leaning with his forearm across your back, his sharp elbow cutting into the muscle to give himself an extra edge to his brutality. You thought he was comfortable in his position, but you were wrong. This was just a transition period.

His arm slid up your back to wrap your hair around his fist, exposing your neck and pining you in place.

A glint of sliver shined in your peripheral, followed by the cool metal blade of his knife on the soft skin of your throat. He had the flat side pressed firmly beneath your Adam’s apple. Anakin's thrusts grew more frantic, his cock sliding in and out of your tight, weeping pussy as he held the knife.

"One word," he growled, his eyes dark with lust and dominance. "And you’ll wish you were dead."

You whimpered, body shaking as you struggled against my bindings. Your cunt clenched around him, milking his cock with each powerful thrust.

"Make me cum, bitch." He snarled, his breathing labored. "Or I’ll slit your fucking throat right here."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you. This was sick, you were sick. How could you possibly like this? Being threatened with a knife against your throat? You didn’t know, didn’t understand and maybe didn’t even want to. Maybe the logistics behind the thrill of this was better off unexplored. You decided then and there you would never let yourself explore that nagging little ‘what if’ about Anakin too.

His grip on the knife tightened, his thrusts becoming harder with each passing second. You controlled your breathing as best you could. Trying desperately not to move as another orgasm washed over your tired body. Your entire being vibrating with the intense energy, cunt spasming around his twitching member, leaking and dripping slick all over again.

“That's it," Anakin growled, his hips moving faster and harder, growing sloppy. His breathing ragged as he felt himself nearing the finish line. "C’mon, make me fucking cum and I’ll let you live."

"You're gonna say thank you after I cum. You hear me?" He snarled, biting the nape of your neck roughly like a dog in heat.

His balls tightened up, his cock pulsating inside you. Your pussy tightly enveloping him, feeling every twitch and jerk.

You squeaked as the cool blade dragged across your throat in a way that felt alittle too real, a little to close to being sliced open. Though you breathed a sigh of relief as the knife now pressed into your shoulder blade. The sharp tip popping through your skin.

“Gonna put a little ‘A’ right here. You want that? Answer me!” He asked through clenched teeth, staving off his orgasm in favor of torturing you.

“No! Please it hurts!” You screamed, the pain bringing you so incredibly close to cumming again.

He let out a familiar whine, followed by a choked moan as he carved the first letter of his name into your unblemished shoulder.

“You should’ve kept still. Now it’s crooked.” He scoffed.

You screamed out in pleasure, hiccuping as you tried to catch your breath. Anakin’s cock throbbing inside your abused walls. You whimpered as an overwhelming orgasm took hold of you. Your body convulsing in a way it never had before, with Anakin never slowing his hard albeit mess pace. He laughed as he watched your bound hands clasp themselves together as you held your breath.

The dam broke and you squirted, making a mess of yourself and him. You could feel the hot wet liquid dripping down your legs, hear it sloshing and squelching with each thrust.

Anakin’s laugh cut off into a choked groan, his cock jerking violently inside you as he came. His thrusts becoming wild and erratic, his body shaking with the force of his release.

"Fuck," he growled, collapsing against you as he finished. "You're a fucking mess, aren’t you?"

You sobbed into the dirt, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. Your pussy clenching around his softening cock, milking him for every last drop of cum.

"That’s right. Good girl.” He moaned, slowly pumping in and out of your swollen and well used cunt.

“Atta girl. You’re a good fuck so long as you keep your mouth shut.” Anakin let out a pained whine as he pulled out of you, leaving your pussy gaping and filled with his seed.

He cut the rope from your wrists and hissed when he saw the red marks. He broke character again for the simple fact that he felt terribly about accidentally hurting you. It was one thing to do it purposely, but this was unacceptable, he chided himself for tying you too tightly under his breath. He leaned down to kiss each wrist gently before tapping your ass with his hand.

“Get up. All fours.” He growled. Back to playing your big scary killer.

You sniffled, doing as he said as quickly as you could even though your body felt weak and jittery.

“Fuck.” He groaned spreading your ass cheeks apart, his thumbs keeping your pussy lips spread so that he could see his hard work; the mess he’d made of you.

He dove into your slick, reddened folds. His tongue laving and sucking your clit. He moaned and whined like he was the one getting pleasured. He shoved his tongue into your hot, raw hole and licked his cum out of you, mumbling dirty words with each breath.

"You taste so fucking good." He groaned, his voice muffled. "So wet and fuckin’ messy. I love it."

You whimpered, his tongue darting in and out of your still-throbbing cunt, tasting the evidence of your rough sex.

"You’re gonna be mine forever." He growled, his words slurred with lust. "No one else is ever gonna touch you again."

His fingers found your entrance, teasingly playing with it before sliding inside, stretching you open again. Your body trembled, pussy clenching around him in protest of his reentry. He leaned forward licking the trickles of blood from your shoulder and gathering it in his mouth. He sat back on his heels and then spit the mixture of his cum, his spit and your blood into your pussy, gently shoving it inside with his fingers.

The act was filthy. Disgusting. But so fucking hot, so sexy, so much so that your pussy contracted around his fingers again. Alittle bit of squirt dribbling out as your body shook. Anakin's eyes darkened as he felt you clench around his fingers once again.

"Fuck." He grumbled, hid grip on your hips tightening. "You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?"

You sobbed, body trembling with the impending orgasm or maybe just from the humiliation. Who knows? At this point you couldn’t tell left from right.

"You just want to get used and ruined, don’t you?" He growled, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. "So fucking ready for it. So desperate for a cock like mine to take care of you."

His words sent you over the edge, body shaking as you came yet again. Your pussy fluttering around his fingers, dribbles of liquid leaking down his hand.

“N-no more.” You whimper, begging for a break.

“Oh poor thing.” He laughed. “it just feels so good that it hurts huh?”

“Y-yes.” You cried, sniffling. Your arms weak and wobbly.

“You’ll get used to it.” He said pulling out his fingers and roughly smacking your pussy with his hand.

You screamed, a choked whimpering sob. You were beyond sensitive, you could feel how swollen you were. But even through the pain, a jolt of pure pleasure shot through your core.

“Get up.” He growled, tucking himself back into his jeans, pulling you to your feet by the hair.

He shoved you against a tree and barked out the instruction for you to stay there. He picked up the knife and bandanna, kicking the ruined rope aside and shoving the ripped panties in his pocket. He grabbed his belt and cracked it against your ass hard one last time before putting his belt back on.

“You didn’t say thank you.” He reminded you.

“Say thank you. Ungrateful bitch.”

M’sorry!” You whimpered. “th-thank you. Thank you.”

“That’s better.” He grunted, yanking your jeans back up and leaving them unbuttoned. The fabric wet and sticky from all the abuse.

“Turn around. Can’t leave those gorgeous tits without any attention right?” He chuckled darkly.

He grabbed your chin examining your face when you slowly turned around. His other hand pulling up your shirt.

“Still pretty. Even after all that.” He said softly a small glimpse at your Anakin, not this brutal character he played. But it was gone quicker than you could blink.

"Beautiful." Anakin murmured, his eyes lingering on your tits before he leaned in to lick and kiss each one. "You’re gonna be so pretty covered in bruises, huh?"

Your breath hitched, nipples pebbling as he sucked and licked at them. His hands cupping and squeezing your breasts roughly, leaving red marks on the soft skin.

He bit down and pulled your nipples with his teeth causing you to yelp in pain. Eliciting a dark laugh from him.

“C’mon,” He grumbled. “let’s get going. I’ve got plans for my new whore.”

He grabbed the back of your neck and shoved you forward, making you stumble and almost trip. You stayed silent other than your sniffling and wiping your nose and eyes as you walked on jelly legs.

"Don't think you're done." Anakin growled, his grip on your neck tightening as you walked. "I’ll never be done with you."

His free hand grabbed your ass, squeezing it roughly before letting go. His eyes never leaving the path ahead.

"You owe me. You know that? A lifetime of obedience and gratitude." He laughed, pushing your forward again. “I could’ve killed you and I didn’t. That’s called a life debt baby.”

You nodded, seeing the truck in the field and breathing a sigh of relief knowing you wouldn’t have to walk much further.

“Almost there.” He said plainly.

Once you reached the truck he opened the door and helped you inside gently. Giving you a soft kiss on the cheek.

He walked around to his side and shoved the items along with his hockey mask down inside the bag. Tossing it to the floor board as he climbed in beside you, pulling you against his chest in a comforting, soothing hug. You sighed, leaning into him. His warmth and closeness comforting you.

"Good girl." Anakin whispered into your hair, his voice softening. He kissed the top of your head gently. "You did so good. I love you doll. I love you so so much."

"Hang tight, baby. We’ll get you cleaned up and back home soon enough." He murmured, his hand resting on your thigh reassuringly.

You gripped his shirt, there was something thrilling about his possessiveness, his control over you. “I love you too Ani.” You whispered, voice shaky.

Once the short drive was over he helped you out of his truck, turning around and leaning forward to give you a piggy back ride to the house.

You sighed thankfully and climbed up. Hugging around his neck and inhaling his comforting scent. Nuzzling into his neck as he carried you into your home. Locking the front door behind him. He softly sat you on the couch, giving you a gentle forehead kiss.

Wordlessly he went to the kitchen and got himself and you a glass of water. Placing the cup in your shaking hands, making sure you drank some before he chugged down his.*

“You okay babydoll?” He asked, pulling you into his lap. “that was pretty intense.”

“I-I’m okay.” You nodded. “y-yeah it w-was intense.”

You gave him a soft smile. “It was fun though… I’m just gonna be really, really sore.”

"You’re so fucking precious.” He murmured, nuzzling your neck. "All worn out and sore, but still smiling at me."

"We'll take it slow next time, okay?" He whispered in your ear, kissing your temple softly. "You tell me when you’re ready for sex again baby. I’m not gonna ask until you come to me.”

You nodded, sighing contentedly. Your head resting against his chest as he held you close, breathing slowly returning to normal.

“Are you glad I read your diary now?”

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch@cherrylooney@star611

@tahliac11 @exquisit3corpse @jeldog @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay

@aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn

@illiethefairy @bunnylovesani @offthethir/wall

@slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @no1klet @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@bobtheturmpetman29 @mortalheartache

@fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

@joshfutturmansrighthand @chaoticantihero

@vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee

@sweetcheesecakesblog@rga11 @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

@graveyard-stray

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the tag list

583 notes · View notes

runninriot · 3 months ago

Text

Feel (I Know What You Need)

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

week 1 prompts: Service Dom, Pillow Princess | rated: E | wc: 4.454 | tags: Pillow Princess Steve Harrington, Service Dom/Top Eddie Munson, Pre Steddie, Hook-Up, Flirting, Teasing, Sex and Feelings, implied Strangers to Lovers | complete fic on ao3

Eddie should’ve stayed at home, shouldn’t have let Chrissy drag him out of the house to go clubbing because look where that got him.

He’s standing alone at the bar, an overprized drink in his hand, watching his best friend having the time of her life after she abandoned him for the cute girl she’s currently kissing in the middle of the dance floor.

And, oh no, don’t get him wrong! He’s not mad at her for leaving him behind to have some fun with a stranger; he’s happy for her. Chrissy deserves to be swept off her feet, to be kissed by a girl that seemed to be genuinely interested in her, maybe not just for tonight.

Because while Eddie has been aware of his sexuality since he was 15 and lucky enough to stick his tongue down both, a girl and a boy's throat in one night for the first time – Chrissy is only now experiencing the benefits of broadening her... hunting grounds.

That’s good for her. Especially after her break-up with that douche Jason – Eddie couldn’t stand him, always knew it would end up in a mess one way or another. He’s glad that guy’s out of the picture.

So, yeah. He fully supports her little make-out session. And he really doesn’t need her to entertain him. He’s good on his own. Knows it’d be easy to find someone else to occupy his time with.

But the thing is-

He's been trying not to do that anymore, to stop picking up random strangers in random places.

Having casual hook-ups is nice and all, but it always feels like something is missing. Like he can’t live up to his full potential because what he craves demands a little more trust, more communication, more ‘getting-to-know-someone’ and that’s just not how one-night stands work.

So, he’s been trying to be good, to hold back and not jump at the next best person that offers him an inviting smile. But then again- Eddie’s a weak man.

He catches himself too late, can’t help but let his eyes roam across the room, scanning the party crowd for potential takers. It's like a sugar rush, addictive in a way, fuel for his ego - and see, the thing is, Eddie's good at flirting, good at reading people to know what they're after.

Like pretty boy over there, for example. Doing his slutty dance moves; fingers seductively gliding across his mesh-covered upper body, touching his face, stroking through his own hair – confident, horny. He’s good-looking and he knows it, knows he’s got eyes on him, not just Eddie’s.

Eddie can practically hear the girls to the guy’s right gush about him when he sees them giggle and blush while daring to turn their heads every now and then. And there, watching him closely from the left corner, licking his lips like a greedy snake when the guy on the dance floor sways his hips to the beat, is a dude that probably thinks he’s hot shit with his gold chain around the neck and too much gel in his hair.

But neither of them have a chance, because it’s Eddie, who catches his attention when he opens his eyes and stares right at him before making his way over to the bar that’s conveniently also where Eddie is.

This is almost too easy, really.

Eddie can read him like an open book; the yearning in his eyes is visible from miles away and his body language is speaking volumes. Eddie knows exactly what that guy wants and this could be his lucky night because-

Eddie's suddenly feeling generous.

-----

“Never seen you here before,” pretty boy says as he leans over the counter, waiting to get the bartender’s attention.

Eddie doesn’t hide the way he’s checking him out head to toe, eyes lingering where the guy’s bent over the edge of the counter with his juicy behind on display, hugged by a tight pair of shorts that’s sitting dangerously low on his hips, revealing a sliver of bronze tinted skin dotted with moles.

Everything about pretty boy’s outfit screams ‘easy to get’ but he can see in in his eyes that it’s all part of an act.

That guy is anything but easy. He’s the type of person that wants to be conquered – you either prove you’re worth his attention or he won’t grace you with more than a derogatory look.

Eddie is so up for the challenge.

“First time,” he answers curtly, hiding a smile in his glass when he finishes his drink. “Not my usual crowd.”

He’s feigning disinterest while already undressing the guy in his mind, throwing away any half-hearted intention to stay alone tonight.

The guy’s too pretty to be left unsupervised. Someone needs to keep an eye on him, make sure he’ll get home okay.

There are too many creeps just waiting for a delicate little thing to cross their paths, ready to sink their dirty fingers into places they do not deserve to stain with their greedy hands. They’d only cut themselves on his sharp edges anyway.

Eddie, on the other hand, knows how to take care of a beautiful rose with thorns, wouldn’t mind a few scratch marks as a reward for his efforts.

Without looking away from him, Eddie lifts two fingers – the petite brunette behind the bar has been eyeing him up all evening, he knows she’ll see him.

Sure enough, not a minute later, two drinks are placed in front of pretty boy whose eyes widen when Eddie grabs one of the glasses and silently offers him the second with a nod.

“Impressive,” the guy snickers while rolling his eyes, trying not to give away how much it bothers him that Eddie managed to get him served that easy. “I’m Steve.”

He doesn’t offer his hand but instead, straightens his posture and turns to fully look at Eddie, giving him an obvious once over.

“Eddie.”

“So, what brings you here? You said this isn’t your usual crowd.”

Eddie’s eyes flick over to where Chrissy is dancing arm in arm with her girl and he smiles to himself when he turns his focus back to Steve.

“Guess I just wanted to try something different.”

“And? Was it worth it?”

Steve holds his gaze and Eddie could probably get lost in the other guy’s hazel eyes. But he’s a man with a plan and he’s getting tired of their pointless conversation.

Time to cut the chase.

“Music sucks,” he says, leaning just a little bit closer, “but I sure had a fun time watching the dance floor.”

He doesn’t miss the bob of Steve’s Adam’s apple when he swallows roughly, imagines what it would feel like to follow the movement with his tongue.

“Yeah? Saw something you liked?”

Steve inches closer almost as if he doesn’t realise it, eyes still transfixed on Eddie.

“Still do.”

-----

continue reading here

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddie smut #steddie smutty september #week one #18+ event

274 notes · View notes

haechoxo · 5 months ago

Text

[9:26 pm]

pushing past everyone to reach the front door, not daring to look anyone in their eyes, let alone look up from the floor, praying no one would notice you leaving, but your prayers went unheard because someone’s hands were planted on your shoulders in an instant.

“where’re you going? didn’t you just get here?” renjun.

“please, jun, let me go, i just want to go home,” you plead, hoping the dim lights would conceal your glassy eyes. the ambience couldn’t conceal the crack in your voice though.

his brows furrowed before looking around, only to darken when he realized what you witnessed.

renjun sighed, “i don’t want you going home alone, i’ll deal with him later. mark’ll take you, alright?” you nodded and followed him to the porch to find him. they shared a knowing look and turned towards his car on the street.

you eyed him warily as you were buckling in, but he only chuckled, “don’t worry, it’s only cola, i figured i would’ve been someone’s driver tonight. though i was expecting jaemin.” he giggled, trying to lighten the mood. it was comforting, but you couldn’t help the slight painful feeling creeping up from your stomach and into your chest.

he broke the silence after a while, “we all knew, you know, that you and hyuck have a thing, though i’m not sure you guys were even hiding anything in the first place,” he said lightheartedly.

“we weren’t hiding anything, we—i thought, we were just going with the flow, maybe something would’ve just led to another after these past few years, but i guess i should’ve picked up on the signs a couple of months ago.”

“you guys were fucking for years? and neither of you made a move at all?” even if he tried to hide the disbelief in his tone, he was doing a shitty job.

“we weren’t just fucking though, it was more than that.” your voice was weak, trailing off with a frown. it started near the end of university, you were both close to begin with, nearly best friends, and school stress on top of work was just getting a little too hard to cope with alone. so it just happened. and then again. and again. and again. it became almost like routine.

your personal endeavors with haechan weren’t a secret either, it was quite normal for the strong romantic relationships that formed between your friends because of the friend group itself. jeno and aeri, jisung and yizhuo, even jaemin and jimin, all entered university together as friends with the rest of us, graduated with the rest of us, just as more than friends this time.

everyone assumed it would just be the same for you and haechan. you weren’t in denial either, but it just seemed unspoken, unnecessary, to say anything about it. as if it was just obvious the line between friends and not friends was just blurred. that you were his and he was yours.

well, the line faded before it could be blurred out.

the kisses became less and less, the “dates” came to a halt, the ‘morning-after’ activities ceased to exist anymore. the only constant that remained was his late-night calls, to which you answered in an instant, showing up to his place shortly after, and vice versa. but even then, he stopped staying.

even the little things, hidden possessiveness, lingering touches, hidden goodbyes, despite everyone knowing.

was it all a lie?

you couldn’t tell how he felt anymore, and it made your head spin, losing touch with yourself being preoccupied with someone who was bad for your health.

“i think i’m done.”

“what? what are you talking about?” mark looked over at you, confusion written on his face.

“with donghyuck.”

he sucked in a breath, but you stopped him from saying anything more.

“i can’t keep going on like this, mark.” you couldn’t help that your voice cracked a little, “he doesn’t care the way he used to, clearly. his interest isn’t in me, he’s not mine, and i’m not sure if i was even his in the first place. i don’t think i’ll be able to move on for a while but i know that i did love him, i do love him, more than a friend should,” you suck in a breath, “but i can’t continue being his for convenience. i’m tired of trying to find where his head is, where his heart is. mine was his, but his isn’t mine. and that’s okay. i don’t think it’s healthy for either of us, you know?”

mark nods in understanding, but remains silent.

“and mark, please don’t tell anyone.”

“not even renjun?”

“...okay, only renjun.”

previous - next

a/n ; part four!! im glad ur all enjoying this as much as i am, its so exciting seeing ur msgs and comments u guys r so silly :p the next parts may take a while to be posted as theyre still being written and edited, most of it is drafted in a notebook rn so i still have to type it out anyway but ill try to get the next chapter out asap!! (tomorrow..) ANYWAY hope u kike this chapter, idk if it adds as much substance as i wish it would but,, advice is appreciated! xoxo jelly <3

252 notes · View notes

neum6ns · 3 months ago

Text

little headcanons for vickys powers bc they r so inconsistent it drives me crazy and i’ve made these all up in my head to act like she didn’t die an unfinished character:

after victoria blew up congress in s2, that woman SLEPTTT. we know that blood manipulation in the boys universe is tiring, victoria says it to marie in gen v, so imagine popping 12+ heads one after another… yeah she was exhausted. she literally ran on coffee and energy drinks for the next few days.

she can constantly hear people’s heartbeats and blood flow and it drives her crazy. i feel like she can hear heartbeats the same way cate can hear everyone’s thoughts - that it’s insanely overwhelming. she can definitely tune them out, it just takes a lot of strength and power. her favourite thing is just being alone with zoe, her heartbeat is the only one she can tolerate.

her eyes only turn white when she uses a lot of her powers (blood manipulation or extra durability). because there is no way in hell one of the smartest the boys characters tried to explode homelander’s head on live television - and that her eyes would turn white even though she didn’t succeed? the only reason they did turn white is because she tanked HOMELANDERS LASERS. like that’s an insane feat and ppl don’t credit my girl enough for that smh 😒

i wish we could see vicky with constant white eyes in the hearing scene in s2 but curse you eric kripke!! i love those pretty eyes 😖 (dare i say she has the second best supe eyes in the whole show! my fave is stormfronts, her powers are so cool)

one of my favourite headcanons is that she used to increase her heart rate around homelander to act like she was scared. especially in her first scene in the show when he swoops down and takes the microphone from her. she could’ve popped his head right there, she had minutes to do it, but instead she acted like she was scared - speeding up her heart rate to not give anything away. ugh she��s so smart and perfect.

in my little fanon world vicky did put herself back together after she was so wrongfully killed (😑). but putting herself back together came at a cost and she lost her powers. vicky had always known in the back of her mind just how powerful she was, stan had been telling her that her whole life. she always knew that if something like that happened, she would be able to come back. her body slowly stitched itself back together, making completely new organs and even more blood! her organs were completely made out of her old blood and guts tho, kinda like patchwork jeans! but they work… so they’re good enough for her.

lemme know if you guys would want more stuff like this! i have a whole essay written about how wrong they did her character, how they should’ve done her powers and ended her storylines but… thats the autism speaking

#(¬_¬) jayden writes #💥 headcanons #ch: victoria #victoria neuman #victoria neuman x reader #the boys #the boys x reader #victoria neuman x you #the boys x you #idk what else to tag #ahh this was so fun :)

166 notes · View notes

idleoblivion · 6 months ago

Text

"Hey Man I Love You, But No Fucking Way" Jamil Viper x GN Reader

Synopsis: The time has finally come for you to leave, but he isn't ready to lose you. Surely you'll hear him out, right?

Word count: ~900

A/N: I usually prefer fluff but thought I'd experiment with a little angst, though I don't think it's too intense. Never written any kind of yandere stuff before so sorry if it's tame.

Warnings: angst, yandere Jamil

This day was bound to come. He knew it, you knew it, everyone did. That didn’t make it any easier for him, though.

He knew you had started bugging Crowley harder about going home after the second overblot. And harder again after the third, then his, and so on. He wanted to meddle, but Kalim kept him busy. Plus, his faith in Crowley was so low he thought he’d have more time. Time to win you over, time to convince you that your place was with him. And he had made progress, you two had become very close despite what went down in Scarabia over the holiday. But the time for you to go had come regardless.

He knew you had people you missed and places you still wanted to see. He knew that at the end of the day, no matter how much he’d grown to like your presence, you were not meant to be in Twisted Wonderland.

But he still held onto that naive hope he had that you would hear him out tonight. Perhaps too tightly.

“You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

“I do.” You answer almost emotionlessly.

“Then… then please-” “Don’t ask me what you’re about to ask me. Don’t do that.”

He should’ve stopped there, but he couldn’t. If there was any chance of you staying with him, he had to fight for it. So he kept going.

“Please… you don’t know what my life was like before you. Please don’t leave me like this.”

You don’t say anything back. He could already feel himself unraveling, but tried to hold it together the best he could.

“You’re the only person I can be myself around. You’re the only person who I can show what I’m actually capable of, the only-” “Jamil, you need to stop this. Now.”

“I love you.” He admits with desperation. “I love you, please, you can’t leave me like this. I’ll never…” he trails off, holding back tears.

“I love you too, Jamil…” You sigh deeply.

“Just not enough to stay?” He snaps without thinking. The look on your face immediately tells him that was the wrong thing to say. “How fucking dare you? You think you’re the only person I’m allowed to care about? I have people that I miss, Jamil. That I’ve been missing. I had a life before this school, sorry that hurts your feelings so badly.” He hadn’t expected you to get so angry with him.

“I didn’t mean-” “I had a life. A life without magic and overblots. Where I didn’t spend every waking moment waiting for something else bad to happen. Where people didn’t want to fight me just for existing, and I wasn’t almost constantly in some kind of trouble or danger.” You’re crying now too, and you turn your back to him as you continue. “I can’t do it. I can’t stay. There’s nothing good for me here.” “What…what can I do? There’s has to be something I can do-” “No, there isn’t. I’m leaving tomorrow and that’s that. Stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

“I…I told you, I love you!” “And I told you I love you, but I can’t do this for you!” You wipe your face as you turn to face him again. “You think I’m happy about leaving you? Of course I’m not! But I’m not going to suffer here for your sake. I have to do this, for me. Why can’t you understand that?!”

And in that moment, he finally did understand. You didn’t want to hurt him. You weren’t trying to, you just needed to look out for yourself. He couldn’t blame you for that. You said you loved him, and he believed you. He watches you sniffle in front of him and put your face in your hands. He feels remorse for how this world has treated you, and guilt for not getting what you really meant at first. Yes, he understands perfectly.

It was the rest of the world that was the problem. You could be happy in Twisted Wonderland, you just didn’t know it. With Crowley and overblots and other stress always wearing you down, of course you didn’t think you could stay. If you were constantly hurting, how could he expect you to?

But, why hadn’t you just said that from the start? If you knew how much you meant to him, didn’t you also know just how far he’d go for you? The mountains he would make move? The people he’d dispose of? Wouldn’t you do the same for him?

Of course, you would never have to do the same for him. He would do everything, take care of everything. Nothing would keep you two from each other. All you had to do was be with him and be happy. He could make that happen, he was sure of it.

He decides that those kinds of plans don’t matter right now, though. What matters most is that you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life, and he isn’t going to let you.

“Look at me.” “Jamil, I’m done with this. I-”

“I get that, okay? Just…please, look at me one more time.” He was pleading, and his voice sounded so terribly dejected. You sigh again. You lift your head up from your hands and meet his eyes.

“I told you, I’m sorry. I really am. I-” “Snake Whisper. Follow me. You’re not going through that mirror.”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x gn reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst jamil #jamil viper #twst angst #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader

392 notes · View notes

hergrandplan · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I hope you're having a nice day!😊 Not sure if you're still taking the 5 sentence thingy but I was thinking of Wilmon💜 and "So you're saying we got lost and we don't know where we are?".

Hi! I'm so sorry that this is so late, but I couldn't figure it out until last night lol. Warning: angst ahead (disclaimer: this thing is inspired by a little AU I worked on a few months ago and is partially written on a train so please excuse any mistakes💜

“So, you’re saying we got lost and we don’t know where we are?” Simon stared aheaf of him, at the snow-covered road, the miles and miles of nothingness.

Beside him, Wille hit the navigation again, but it still wouldn’t come to life.

“Told you we should’ve taken a map.” Simon thumped his head against the headrest, closing his eyes. At least they were in a car, somewhat warm and shielded from the elements. “This wouldn’t have happened with a map.”

“I’m sorry,” Wille said. “I know this probably isn’t how you wanted to spend your Christmas.” He was silent for a moment, then Simon heard him let out a bitter chuckle. “Stuck in a car with your ex.”

Simon opened one eye, glancing at Wille next to him. “I’m not stuck in a car with my ex. I’m stuck in a car with my friend.”

Simon didn’t miss the quick grimace that came over Wille’s face, before he schooled it back in a more neutral look. “Right. Friends. Forgot we were that for a second.”

Simon turned his head to look at him, frowning. “I mean – we are. That’s why I invited you along to pick up my mom’s gift.”

“Don't lie to me. You called me ’cause you needed my car." Wille's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, even though they hadn't been driving for at least 15 minutes now.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I called you ‘cause I wanted to spend time with you, because you are my friend.”

“Because that’s the only reason you call me nowadays!” Wille snarled, whipping around to face Simon. “You only reach out when you need something from me, whether it’s picking up your mom’s Christmas gift or se—“

“Don’t,” Simon warned. “Don’t you dare go there.”

“It’s true though, isn’t it?” It was now that Simon saw the anger simmering in Wille’s eyes, and wondered how long it had been there. “I don’t hear anything from you all year," Wille continued, "while you’re living your fancy life in Los Angeles or New York or wherever the fuck you live now, god knows I don’t know ‘cause you don’t talk to me, and then the minute you get back here you just pretend like everything is just as you left it. Well guess what, Simon?" Wille's breathing had become shallow, consisting of quick, angry breaths. "Things change in your absence. You may think that the whole fucking world revolves around you now, and your tours and your albums, but that doesn’t mean that we stop living the second you leave. It doesn’t mean that we don’t go on.”

“I don’t think the world revolves around me!” Simon yelled back, the car suddenly feeling too small to be having this kind of conversation.

“Don’t you? You certainly expect me to still be the exact same, knocking on my door in the middle of the night because you feel lonely. As if loving you wasn’t already the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, there you go again messing with my head.”

Simon stilled, and he gazed up at Wille. “You once said loving me was as easy as breathing.”

He saw that bitter grimace cross Wille’s face again, but this time it didn’t disappear. “That was back when you still loved me too.”

Simon’s heart thumped in his throat and there were tears, threatening to spill down his cheeks. The words were soft, afraid that if he spoke them any louder his voice would crack. “Who says I ever stopped?”

Send me a sentence + wilmon and get 5 (or many) more!

#this was painful to write but #oh well #also i am still taking prompts but... im slow #young royals #wilmon #yr fanfic #yr fanfiction #young royals fanfic #young royals fanfiction #wilmon fanfic #simon eriksson #prince wilhelm #yr ficlet #1 + 5 sentence game

94 notes · View notes

strawberry-whorecake · 1 year ago

Text

It Started With A Book | C.B.

pairing: Charlie Barber x fem!reader

summary: You were Henry’s babysitter. He employed you to watch his son. You were a pretty little thing, and he should’ve known better than to pursue you… but damn could he just not help himself.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: swearing, age gap (reader is of age), dirty talk, praise, innocence kink, size kink, breeding kink (kind of??), PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of the book ‘Lolita’

A/N: the ‘Henry’s babysitter’ thing has been done before so full credit to everyone else who’s written one for the inspo !! i let my daddy issues run rampant with this one whoops

Charlie had known you since you were sixteen. He hired you for the first time when he was still with Nicole, before the entirely messy divorce had unfolded.

You were bright eyed and eager to please, which he liked. He was even more gratified when Henry took an immediate liking to you, especially since Henry didn’t click with many others.

He adored the way that you adored Henry, how you indulged to him one time that you saw the job more like hanging out with a friend; that you didn’t see Henry as an obligation, but as someone you enjoyed being around.

He was especially thankful that following the divorce you still didn’t seem to mind in the slightest to keep babysitting for him when he had obligations he simply couldn’t get out of; or in simpler terms— him not wanting to bring Henry to the theater and keep him up past his bedtime.

Charlie cursed himself for the way he took more notice of you the moment you turned eighteen— the way you interacted with Henry, the way your lashes would flutter when you wished him goodnight before you left, the way your soft lips would curl into a gentle smile when he’d walk in the door.

He scrutinized the way he could recall every flick of color in your irises. The way your skin looked soft and supple. He damned the innocent air that surrounded you, the one he so desperately wanted to defile and tear into with his teeth.

He knew it was wrong, and he hated himself for it. But goddamn could he not help himself when he got sight of you.

He looked forward to the private moments when Henry was fast asleep that you two would share a small and admittedly polite conversation, typically about the books you were reading before he would unfortunately wish you goodnight and safe travels home.

He cherished those moments because while you’d ramble on about everything you and Henry had done in the evening, he’d get to stare into your eyes— look over your gorgeous features— and if he was feeling particularly daring and depraved, sneak a glance down your body.

Tonight was no exception. It was a little after ten pm when he pulled open the door. He watched as you perked up at his arrival and he selfishly relished in the attention.

“Hi, Charlie. How was everything at the theater?” you spoke in a hushed voice, same as you did every night. He watched as you shut the book in your hands, placing it in your lap as he pulled off his coat and set down his case.

“Oh, you know…” he said with an airy chuckle, allowing his eyes to look over you again as they did when you first arrived earlier this evening. He looked forward to looking at you more so when he’d arrive home, in the privacy of just you and him.

“Henry’s asleep?” he asked, eyes looking over your chosen outfit. The shirt you wore from a band that he without a doubt believed you’d barely knew of their greatness as they came before your time. That pleated tennis skirt that stopped just at the beginning of your thighs. His eyes wandered farther, down to the ankles of your socks and that pair of utterly adorable mary janes.

You nodded curtly, and he watched those lips of yours pull up into the corners. “He had dinner- all he wanted was mac and cheese, so I gave in." you giggled sweetly, "Then we played board games for a while before he went to bed at eight, like you asked.”

‘Good girl’ had almost burst from his lips, but he quickly stifled it with a gentle clearing of his throat. “Perfect. What is it this time?” he nodded toward the book in your lap. You picked it up, outstretching it towards him. “It’s uh, Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, are you familiar?”

Charlie hummed as he turned the book over in his hands, he noticed the way your eyes followed his movements. “I am actually. Quite a controversial novel, but I’ll admit the writing is fantastic.”

You nodded again, “I couldn’t agree more. It’s written beautifully considering…" Your gentle chuckle filled the room with such an air of purity, he couldn’t help but crack a soft smile as he handed you back the book.

He watched as you stood, smoothing out the fabric of your skirt— his sign the night was ending… tonight, he couldn’t let that happen. He held up a thick finger, “Hold that thought, will you?”

He took notice to the confused look in your wide eyes, but you nodded once more, and with the okay he slipped into his bedroom momentarily, running his fingers along his vast collection of books until he found what he was looking for.

Returning a moment later with a haste to his steps as he couldn’t wait to be facing you once more, he held out the book in your direction. “Here, this is for you.”

He watched your eyes look curiously to the book in his hand before you took it in both of yours. He watched as your eyes wandered the cover of his copy of Lolita, your lashes fluttered in astonishment and disbelief before those eyes of yours met his. “Charlie… you can’t be serious…”

He chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’m partial to hardcovers myself,” he used a thick finger to tap the book now in your hands. “This is a first edition print, but it’s still in mint condition.”

His words made your fingers loosen slightly on your grip, your eyes widening a bit more. “Charlie…”

He shook his head, “No, no, take it. I want you to have it.”

Your brows knit lightly as you looked at him, trying to find any ounce that he wasn’t serious— but oh, was he. Just the idea of your small, nimble, perfectly manicured little fingers caressing the pages before you’d turn to the next one made him more than sure of what he was doing. He loved your hands, and how little they were in comparison to his— but then again, everything about him was huge in comparison to you.

“I’m going to give you a hug for this, that’s your warning.” you giggled, making him smile again. His eyes followed you as you turned to carefully place the book on the couch before you turned to him again, practically colliding with him as your arms did their best to wrap around his broad frame.

He easily entangled his arms around you, it only took one of his arms to encompass you, but he indulged himself in wrapping them both around your back, gently rubbing it with his hand.

He felt you sigh softly, felt the rise and fall of your chest against him as his hands slowly tangled into your hair, playing with it around his fingers.

You looked up at him— you looked like an angel. Your eyes wide, blinking softly as you looked up at him. Your cheeks tinged with color.

His heart kicked up speed, he could feel his own cheeks growing pink with fluster. His hand trailed from your back, using his knuckles to caress their way up to your cheek until he took your face against his palm. You were utterly still under his touch as he drew you in closer— his longing to feel you against him was unbearable...

“Would you maybe… let me kiss you?” Your breath hitched in your throat, your chest stuttering slightly in response as he held your gaze to be locked in on his. Your perfect lips parted, but they made no sound. His inquiry had rendered you speechless, forcing you to nod in response.

He felt as his lips curled up into a smile, unable to stop himself. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek, urging your neck to crane further upward to meet his height as he leaned in, watching as your eyelids fluttered shut. He pressed his lips against your plush and plump awaiting lips.

He could feel your heartbeat against his own body, and for a moment he couldn’t discern whose heart was beating faster with the thumping of his own heart ringing in his ears.

He felt your arms snake around his body and press flat against his chest, he couldn’t help but lean into your touch. The feeling of your hands on him was like pure bliss— a sin he’d so often dreamt about. He couldn’t stop himself from letting his hand fall from your face as his arms encircled you, finding their way to the backs of your thighs, feeling just how plush and smooth the skin of your legs were against the pad of his fingers as he pulled you closer to him. He let his thumbs caress your flesh.

He also couldn’t stop the gentle groan of pleasure that pulled from his lips. You were pure ecstasy to him. Your body against his, the gentility of your lips, the sweet and mild smell of your shampoo– all of it overwhelmed his senses and drew him into you, if he had half a mind he’d admit that all of this grew a kindling flame of obsession for you.

Now that he was in, he was all in. All his cards in your basket. Previously he just loved the small things about you but now he felt he had a deeper knowledge of you that dove beyond the surface, and he was drowning in you.

He pulled away just slightly, his lips ghosting over yours not wanting to be apart from them for too long. “You taste so sweet.” he purred before diving back against your lips, catching your bottom between his teeth as he tugged at it gently. When you whimpered at his actions he felt like his brain was going into overdrive. He was dizzy, his head full of just you and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Your voice was soft, slightly embarrassed, and stuttered as you spoke. “Ch-Charlie… I’ve wanted to kiss you for quite some time now.”

He hummed at your words, fingers teasing shapes into the flesh on the back of your thighs, making your bottom lip quiver as he looked you over. He had you eating out of his palm and that’s exactly where he wanted you. He saw the embarrassment flicker through your eyes at your own admission and he pulled you impossibly closer again– if you were any further against his body you’d be inside his bones, and he wasn’t sure that he minded that idea all that much. Those perfect fingers of yours trailed up and down his chest pulling a deep sigh from within it.

He buried his lips against your neck, tasting how sweet and soft and warm you were and he couldn’t help but imagine how you’d taste from between your thighs. He purred your name, “Jump…” he instructed.

He saw the slight confusion flood over your expression, and he pinched at the back of your thighs again. To his relief, you obliged. Your arms tangled around his neck and with a leap he quickly grabbed hold of your waist as your legs wrapped around his hips.

It seemed you couldn’t control yourself just as he, and your lips immediately found his as he walked you backward before pinning you between him and the wall. “You’re such a tease, you know that?” he hummed against your lips, his cock twitching in his slacks as you whimpered again.

“J-Just don’t drop me, will you?” you piped up, a hint of nervousness in your tone and he chuckled darkly. “I would never, I’ve got you.” he assured, pushing you against the wall with his hips as his hands gripped your sides. His lips crashed into yours with intense fervor, tracing his tongue along your bottom lip before prodding his tongue into your mouth. You tasted like candy– so incredibly sweet it almost made his teeth ache but he couldn’t get enough.

His fingers teased the hem of your shirt, feeling the fabric of your top against his skin. “Can I take this off?” his tone was as polite as he could manage, but there was a hint of order to it, like it wasn’t truly an inquiry but a warning that he was going to remove it anyway. His lips found your neck again and he was pleased when he felt you nod against him, adorable little whines and mewls gurgled in your throat in desperation. “Arms up, sweet girl.” he hummed.

You didn’t seem to completely trust him to not drop you as you nervously lifted your arms— but just barely. But drop you, he would absolutely not. He dug his hips into yours, forcing a gentle groan to lurch past his lips as his imprisoned cock pressed against your concealed core. The action made your arms rise up as you gasped softly and he wasted no time to tug your shirt over your head.

He pulled back a moment to admire you– your neck, your collar bones, the bulge of flesh that made up your ever-so-perfect and supple breasts and how they bubbled over the white and lacy confining fabric of your bra.

His fingers trailed up your abdomen, feeling the heat radiating off your skin and onto the pads of his fingers and wandered farther, finding their way to the small pink rose embellishment in the center of your breasts. He flicked it gently, chuckling to himself as even your under layers held a breath of innocence.

He couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering as he compared you to the little pink rose, so small, soft and innocent— it was a simple rendition of how he saw you.

His attention was drawn back to your fingers pulling needily at his own top, fingering the buttons of his dress shirt. “Want me to take this off, pretty?” He watched as your teeth bit down on the plush of your lip and you nodded.

He’d never known his fingers to work so fast, grazing from one button to the next with incredible ease as he worked up to the very top button. He couldn’t control his excitement as you assisted him in pulling the top off his arms. He watched as your eyes roamed across him, taking in the rise and fall of his broad chest. One of your arms fell from the grip around his neck, tracing down his pecs.

He held onto your hips, fingers gently gripping at your flesh as he resisted every urge to dig his fingers in, bruise you beneath his touch. You were soft, too pure for that– but he desired with every ounce of himself to taint you.

His lips found your neck again, and he teased his tongue along your skin, before placing open mouthed kisses further down your neck, finding finality against your collar bones. He could feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest against his chin. “Charlie…” you whimpered.

God– he loved the sound of his name off your lips. It made his groin ache, longing to be buried deep in your cunt, begging to hear how it would sound as you screamed it, trembling around him.

Your hips shifted beneath his hands as more whimpers fell from your lips. You grinded your core against his hardness in a desperate attempt for friction, drawing a groan from his throat. “You want something, little girl?”

You whined in embarrassment again, your head finding its way to the crook of his neck as your arms tangled around it once more, holding yourself steady. He chuckled again, diving his hands between your bodies and dipped his thick fingers beneath the waistband of that oh-so incredibly short skirt you wore this evening. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers teased your clothed core. “This what you want? You need attention here?”

Your pathetic mewl only made his cock twitch again— christ, was he impatient. But you were an angel, he intended on treating you like such... luring you in gently before truly defiling you.

Your hips bucked against his hand, and his lip curled into a smirk again. He slid his fingers over your clothed slit again. “I’m gonna need to hear your words, sweet girl.” The pet name drove you crazy– he knew so from the way the heartbeat between your legs pounded against his awaiting fingers.

“P-Please…” you pleaded pathetically. He hummed again, “Of course, pretty.” His fingers pulled your panties aside and he finally achieved one of his deepest desires– getting to touch you between those pretty little thighs. You whimpered against his skin, tightening your arms ever so slightly around his neck as his fingers barely even touched you.

He slid his fingers between your slit, gathering your wetness on the length of his fingers, and he teasingly sucked his teeth. “For such a good girl you’re so wet…” he purred, pressing his cheek against your forehead. The heat of your face burned in the crook of his neck and you mewled. It was so easy to fluster you.

He stroked his fingers through your core a few times, letting them caress your sensitive nub every now and again to earn more whines of desperation out of you before his fingertip teased your entrance. “Mmm… I’m gonna make you feel so good, little girl.” You whimpered pathetically once more and he couldn’t stop himself from smirking.

He took his longest finger and slowly pushed it inside of you, feeling the way your velvet walls sucked him deeper and clenched around him. You felt like a glimpse of heaven, and he longed to bury his dick inside of you instead, but you were incredibly tight only around one finger.

He teasingly sucked his teeth again. “Now, how am I ever going to fit my cock inside your perfect little pussy, hmm? I might split you in half.” His words made you clench around his finger, and you dragged your hips again. He took the hint, withdrawing his finger before prodding it back inside of you, earning a soft and stuttered sigh out of you.

He let his eyes flutter shut as he rested his head against yours, fucking into you with his middle finger until he thought you were ready, then he eased his ring finger inside you, curling his hand and dragging his fingers as he seemed to pet you from the inside.

He hummed in content at the way you immediately took him in, listening to the soft whimpers that bubbled in your throat as his fingers stroked you. He cupped his hand slightly, catching your clit with his thumb which he wasted no time to rub small circles against. He smirked as your hands gripped tighter around his neck.

Your hips gently rocked against his hand as he held you steady between him and the wall, making sure you weren’t going anywhere. Your walls seemed to suck him in deeper, desperate for his intrusive fingers.

Just on his fingers you felt like a dream– warm, velvety, slick. He adored using his fingertips to explore every centimeter of your walls, poking and prodding every ounce of you he could find as he curled his fingers inside you.

His head pulled away from the top of your own and he cocked his head to bury his lips against your neck, needing to taste you again as you softly mewled at how his hands worked inside and against you.

His tongue lapped at your skin before he gently sucked on your flesh, his teeth catching before he bit down earning a shocked gasp from you. He couldn’t help but chuckle. He felt like he was biting down into the soft and delicate flesh of a peach. He withdrew himself before grazing his teeth along another spot on your neck, biting down once again. He was gentle, like he made himself promise to be… but every soft gasp you made made him want to bite harder and harder.

Every time he nibbled on your neck you clenched around his fingers and he couldn’t stop himself from working them faster— your sweet, kittenish sounds growing more incessant.

When your breath hitched in your throat and you let out a particularly strained whine, his fingers seemed to act on their own accord, picking up more pace inside of you. “You gonna cum on my fingers, pretty girl?”

You held tighter around his neck, burying your face deeper into his skin as you nodded feebly, more strained whines escaping from your throat. His thumb drew tighter, more meticulous circles around your clit. “Look at me, sweet girl…”

This time your whine was in defiance, not wanting to draw your head away from the crook of his neck. “Don’t make me ask you again.” he warned.

When you withdrew from his neck, he swore he’d died and was facing the great beyond. Your brows were knit perfectly in pleasure, your eyes barely open; drunk on the bliss he was providing you. Your lips were parted, soft pants leaking from between them as your chin trembled slightly. “Fuck... you’re gorgeous.” he groaned looking you over. Your expression was motivation enough for him to push you over the edge, and it didn’t take long with the calculated movements of his fingers for you to crumble in his hands.

Your lips fell into a perfect little ‘o’ as your eyes rolled back before your lashes fluttered shut. Your walls constricted and stroked his fingers as your cunt flooded with warmth. He quickly buried his lips against yours, swallowing down the cries of your rapture to keep you quiet. As much as he wanted nothing more than to hear that sweet melodious pitch of your moans, he knew better than to risk being overheard.

He drew a few more gentle circles over your clit as he worked you through your release before your eyes opened again and found their way to his. A sloppy smile tugged gently at the corner of your lips and he withdrew his hand.

“Open that pretty mouth.” he ordered, and you obeyed instantly. He plunged his thick, slick coated fingers against your tongue. “Suck.”

You mewled pathetically as you followed instructions. He groaned as your tongue slid between his fingers, lapping up every ounce of your release. Your cheeks dented divinely as you sucked on his digits.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop and quickly brought them to his own mouth, tasting your sweetness and saliva on his own tongue. He hummed against his fingers, the sensation making his cock twitch again and he couldn’t deprave himself any longer of the need to slide himself inside you.

“Think you can take me now, sweet girl?” he purred, dragging his thumb along your bottom lip. When you nodded he sucked his teeth again, “Use your words.”

You whined pathetically before you spoke, “P-Please, Charlie.” His lips pulled into a smirk at your obedience. “Such a good girl you are.”

His hands found your waist as he pulled you away from the wall, your legs clinging to his hips to steady yourself as he carried you as silently as he could down the hall and into the bedroom. He used his shoulder to shut the door, only continuing to the bed when it clicked against the frame.

He laid you on the bed gently as if too much pressure would cause you to shatter. He watched as your back arched upward to meet his hands. They curled into the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down.

His boyish excitement bubbled in his chest at the sight of your delightfully matching set of underwear. He couldn’t help himself from wondering if you always wore matching underwear or, if more self-indulgently, you knew by a greater power that he wouldn’t be able to help himself this evening and you wore them just for him.

You were a divine sight as his eyes roamed over you. The way your thighs met at the top, the smooth skin of your stomach rising and falling as you breathed with anticipation. You were glorious, and you were all for him.

As his hands began to work at the clasps of his slacks your hands snaked under your back to unclasp your bra. He quickly grabbed at your wrist. “Let me.” he pleaded. He needed to be the one to strip you of your clothing. With a nod of verification he withdrew his hand and kicked off his shoes before he stepped out of his pants, pushing them with little care out of the way.

He leaned over your perfect body, starting with an open mouthed kiss just above your pelvis before trailing them upward until he reached the underwire of your bra. His hands encircled around your frame, pushing between your skin and the sheets on the mattress to find the clasp against your back.

When his fingers made contact he fought against his haste to rip it off of you, instead delicately and teasingly unhooking one clasp, then the next, until the only support the bra had on your body was by the straps on your shoulders.

He pulled away from you, writhing his hands away from your back and to your shoulders as he dragged the straps down your arms, watching as your nipples immediately pebbled in the open air of his room.

He oddly missed the sight of the little rose between your breasts, but the supple flesh of your chest made up for its departure. His hands traced down your sides before roaming up toward your breasts, pawing at them as he placed kisses between them– hearing your sweet little hums of pleasure returning as he flicked his thumb over your bud.

He looked up at you from between your breasts, as your hands tangled gently into his hair, combing it out of the way of his eyes. “You’re perfect.” he praised as he pulled his lips away from you.

He stood to his full height, trailing his hands down your sides until his fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties. This was it– this was the vision he was waiting for. Your body completely bare for him, every ounce of your flesh ready to be swallowed down by his eyes.

His breath hitched in his throat as he sucked down his excitement. First he saw your hips and the beginning of your pelvis, then he dragged the fabric further, finally bearing witness to your perfect little mound.

He dragged your panties all the way down your smooth legs before discarding them to the floor. He took hold of your knees and pushed them backward so you could display yourself for him.

Your whines of embarrassment as he gazed upon your idyllic cunt didn’t deter him in the slightest. He was swallowing up the vision of you– legs spread, completely stripped down for him.

He couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped past his lips. You were unparalleled. And right now, you were his. His cock twitched at the sight, and he palmed himself through his boxers, keeping one hand to caress up and down the side of your thigh.

As soon as his hand met himself he groaned softly, the excitement coursing through his veins again that momentarily he’d be buried deep inside your sweet cunt. Your awaiting eyes, the slightly nervous expression on your face made you seem ethereal– like you were just a dream and he had to resist the urge to pinch himself to verify that you were in fact very real.

He couldn’t take the wait any longer, it felt like it was eating him alive the longer he stared at the glistening evidence of your prior release still slick on your pussy. He tugged down his boxers with haste, kicking them to join his slacks off to the side. Your breath hitched as you caught sight of his size, making his eyes meet yours.

A smirk pulled on his lips, “I know you can take it, sweet girl.” he cooed, taking himself in his hand and giving him a few strokes. He smeared the precum across his length, circling his hand around his girth. His tip was angry, desperate to be buried deep inside you, and his veins pulsed in agreement. In just a moment he’d be able to feel his cock against your velveteen walls.

He kneeled on the edge bed, running his tip through your folds, making you whimper again. He shushed you gently, “Don’t worry, pretty. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He coated himself with your slick as he aligned himself with your entrance. He slowly, using all the restraint he had to not just completely sheathe himself inside you, pushed into you. Your cunt immediately clenched, tightening around what little he’d put in.

He groaned, working more of himself inside you as you strained out moans, struggling against his size.

The feeling was beyond what he thought he was prepared for. You were beyond perfect. His fingers did little to prepare him for this. Your cunt squeezed against him while simultaneously trying to draw him in, plush walls fluttering around his length.

He couldn’t stop himself, he pushed all the way into you as far as his cock would go, letting out a guttural groan as he bottomed out. “Fuck- you take me so good… you feel incredible.” he praised. You were reduced to only whines and whimpers as you fought to adjust to him, but he didn’t care.

His fingers drifted from your thighs to your tummy, his eyes widening in admiration as he caressed and admired the bulge in your belly where his dick resided from inside.

Christ, he wanted to fuck you dumb, fuck you so hard that you’d forget your own name, only babbling cock-drunken mumbles.

He pulled out of you, no longer interested if you were adjusted or not before he plunged back inside of you, his head lurching forward as his eyes shut at the feeling. You clearly weren’t fully adjusted yet from your feeble cry, but not to worry, you’d be there soon enough.

He dragged his hips back, his hands finding their way to your hips again as he pulled you down onto him– another cry pouring from your lips. He indulged himself with the unrealistic idea that a pretty little thing like you had never been touched before, that you were all encompassingly his.

He hissed through his teeth, his own brows knitting over the idea. “F-Fuck…” he groaned. He found a rhythm, fucking into you as gently as he could but his need was quickly winning him over as he increased the pace of his hips.

The way you whimpered his name drove him wild. Your chest rose and fell heavily, your fingers clutching tightly at his bedsheets.

He leaned over you, pressing his lips to your neck again as he gently nibbled and sucked at the skin, your hands wrapping under his arms stabilized by your head– fingernails scratching down his back as he bucked his hips into you. His cock slid between your plush walls, he hissed curses as he sank down into you, pressing them against the skin of your throat.

“Fuck-” he purred your name, “You’re amazing.” he praised, making you whimper again.

You pressed your hips to his with every withdrawal, as if you couldn’t stand the idea of him pulling out of you, as if you couldn’t wait for him to fill you again.

He bit down onto your neck, a little harsher than he’d admittedly meant to, making you mewl out. He withdrew from your body and grabbed tightly onto your thighs, dragging you toward him as he moved to stand at the edge of the bed. He pulled your legs to either side of his shoulders, desperate to breach as much of you as he could– and he was instantly gratified when his cockhead prodded against the silky, firm makings of your cervix. A groan of your name pulled from his throat as he sheathed himself against it.

Every pound of his hips to yours, every ram against your insides, made you cry out. He looked at the angelic expression of your pleasure before he leaned forward and pressed his hand over your mouth. As desperate as he was for you, he was even more so to not wake Henry– he wanted this moment to last forever, uninterrupted by anyone or anything.

With your noises muffled by his strong palm his movements grew fervid, his teeth gritting together to stifle his own sounds of pleasure. Your walls stroked him effortlessly, it drove him wild– borderline animalistic.

Your hands wrapped and gripped around his wrist as he looked over you, your brows knit together, your eyes pinched tightly shut as he fucked into you, each harsh thrust making your tits bounce as skin slapped against skin.

It was filthy, you were such an innocent and delicate thing, yet you let him fill you up with his cock like a whore.

That familiar clench he felt around his fingers now overwhelmed his length. His hand clutched tighter over your mouth as your whimpers grew incessant. You were unraveling right around him.

“Gonna-cum-on-my-cock-like-a-good-girl?” he emphasized his words with thrusts of his hips making you cry out against his palm. Your walls continued to clench, fluttering around him as he fucked into you.

Hitting again and again against the firm, slick surface of your cervix, the noises he worked so hard on muffling– he was nearing bliss himself. You nodded against his hand, muttering stuttered pleas against the skin of his palm.

“Then cum, sweet girl.” His hips slammed against yours again and as if he’d said the magic-fucking-word, your cunt fluttered causing his tip to twitch as your walls stroked him, your second release unraveling.

His hand dug harsher against your mouth as he watched you reach your peak– your eyes rolled before your lashes fluttered, pinching tightly shut. You cried out curses against his hand as you came on his dick.

He groaned as you milked his cock. White hot euphoria blurred his eyes as he leaned his head back, hips stuttering only for a moment before he shot ropes of cum deep inside your cunt.

You whimpered against his palm, your walls fluttering around him as he twitched, still thrusting into you but at a much slower fervency now. He opened his eyes and huffed harshly, looking down into your fucked out expression as he withdrew his hand.

He shoved your legs off his shoulders, closing in the distance between yours and his body as he crashed his lips against yours hungrily, clashing teeth against lips in the haste.

You moaned into his mouth and he happily swallowed them down, panting into your own, still dragging his hips through the end of his orgasm.

You were fucking perfect. He couldn’t say it enough, you were a gift from the heavens above; an angel. He often fantasized about the idea of fucking you– but he found his fantasies were not nearly as incredible as the genuine thing.

Fucks sake– he would happily stay buried in your cunt til the end of time. He pulled away from your lips, leaving you to whine in the loss of contact as he stood up to his full height and took himself in his hand, withdrawing from you.

As he unsheathed himself he watched as the combination of your releases slid from your hole… he couldn’t have that. He needed it to stay deep inside of you. Needed a part of him to remain in your cunt as a reminder of what he did to you, how he soiled your sweet air of innocence.

He dragged his tip along your folds, gathering up as much of it as he could before he gently shoved his cock back inside of you, making you whimper pathetically in overstimulation. He buried himself up inside you, bucking his hips gently as you tightened around him, making him hiss between his teeth.

You whimpered his name and he huffed softly, “Okay, sweet girl.” he cooed, curling over you again, and writhed a hand through your hair consolingly as he unsheathed from your sweet cunt.

Fucked out, skin tainted stickily with sweat, eyes heavy and tired… you were still nothing less than perfect to him– perhaps in this state even more so.

He was filled to the brim with desire for you, but he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a soft and gentle kiss to your lips. One of love rather than lust. He adored the way you hummed against his lips. His hands trailed gently up and down your sides.

He pulled away from your lips, looking down over your face as he gently caressed your cheek with the back of his knuckles. Perfect, he told himself again.

He helped you redress, as you were relentlessly unsteady on your own legs, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. He savored the way your fingers clutched his shoulders for stabilization as he helped you step into your underwear. He relished the way your head lolled softly against his chest as he pulled on your bra, clasping it in the back.

It was admittedly a walk of shame back to the living room for your shirt, but he’d do it a million times over just for you, for the way you depended on him for his assistance.

The two of you stood for a moment, neither one of you knowing exactly what to say as your eyes roamed each other. You were both, however, in a silent agreement that nobody could ever know what had happened… though Charlie selfishly hoped it would happen again.

“Let me help you.” he murmured, rushing to help you gather your bag, assisting you to pull it over your shoulder before you spun to look at him again.

He couldn’t help but smile as the fucked out expression still tainted your features. “Well… thank you for the book.” you mumbled softly.

After all that, he’d admittedly forgotten all about the book. His lips parted momentarily before they reconnected into a smile, and he softly shook his head. “I know it’s in good hands.”

He watched as your lips curled up into a gentle and innocent smile. “You’ll call me next time you need a sitter, right?” He noted your eyes nervously looking between his own, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you closer, “You don’t think I’m getting rid of you any time soon, do you? Quite the opposite actually, sweet girl.”

You hummed softly as he placed a kiss on your forehead, making his heart beat a little harder in his chest.

He was rather saddened to watch you pull away from him, making your way to the front door– he wanted nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and carry you to his bed to rest your tired body, but he knew he couldn’t do that.

So, he swallowed down his disappointment and unlocked the door for you, pulling it open.

You began to walk out, and he let himself indulge in the gentle sway of your hips as you walked past him, before you stopped, one hand on the frame of the door as you turned to face him.

He watched as your adorable wide eyes stared back into his. “Good night, Charlie.”

He beamed, “Good night,” he purred your name. You lingered a moment longer, and he resisted the urge to raise a questioning brow, until your hand met his chest and your lips met his for one last kiss– you pulled away after a moment, and with an air of excitement you quickly turned on your heel and made your way out the door.

He watched you glance back at him with that girlishly playful smile and he couldn’t help but chuckle. When you were out of sight he shut the door behind you, letting himself collapse against it as he writhed a hand through his hair, selfishly recalling tonight’s memories which were still, and would remain fresh in his mind for quite a while… surely until he saw you again, which he quickly made mental note to need you to watch Henry again soon.

You were a dangerous game, but Charlie wanted nothing more than to play.

#adcu #adcu smut #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you #charlie barber smut #adcu x reader #adam driver #smut #whorecake fics

455 notes · View notes

hyperactively-me · 1 year ago

Note

okay okay okay, i know you get sooo many asks for king!ghost/princess!reader au, and we love them all and eat them all up--so i understand if you never answer this one... But i've always wondered, esp after he gifted reader his knife, what the heck was simon doing in the hall, cleaning his knife *that* night. Like I think about it often, was he going to talk to her (lil scandalous in the middle of the night)? Did he happen to be walking around and see her? Was he making sure she was okay? Was he feeling bad because he knows what it's like to have your family ripped away and although it is for the better, he feels remorseful for the reader? I mean, obviously reader felt someone watching her, how close was he??? Watching her be free and open in her lil sanctuary (thinking about how she'd have to find that in his kingdom/castle)? I NEED ANSWERS LOL

king!ghost x reader -- knife explained (flashback to the first couple of chapters, specifically "knife"; written in Ghost's POV) hopefully this answers your question 😉

It’s been a sleepless night. He couldn’t sleep. The woman betrothed to him was a complete and utter mystery. He had never seen anything like you, the way you so openly displayed your disdain and disgust to him.

Yes, he knew that he was not very well-liked outside of his own kingdom. But, this is a woman who is supposed to be his wife. He recalls the fire in your eyes, the unwavering determination that matched the contempt in your voice. It was a stark contrast to the delicate and obedient bride he had envisioned you would be. What a spoiled little princess you turned out to be.

And, he didn’t mean to be intimidating on purpose, that’s just how he carries himself outwardly. He was accustomed to commanding respect and obedience, even if it was born out of fear, no matter who the person. But, you were different. You had risen up against him because of your fear, and unashamedly at that.

It kept him wide awake, the way your face twisted into a frown every time he stepped into a room, or the way you turned up your nose when he tried to speak to you. He thinks back to the dinner earlier that night, the way your knuckles were white as you gripped your dinner knife, fork stabbing into the innocent food being served. He had to bite back the urge to laugh; laugh at the thought of you being difficult on purpose. Until, it had finally hit him, that you were acting like this on purpose. It wasn’t just a ruse, your defiance, and fear, was quite real. You were not the stereotypical demure bride.

He shifts in his bed once again, staring at the ceiling, and he finds himself drawn to the challenge you presented. It was as if you held the key to a mystery he couldn’t resist unlocking. A woman who dared to challenge him was a rarity, and the prospect both unsettled and fascinated him. He couldn’t dismiss the fact that you had piqued his curiosity in a way that no one else ever had.

Ghost finds himself torn between frustration and intrigue. He never saw himself fit to be a husband, yet here he was. The usual tactics that had subdued others seemed to have no effect on you. Instead, it fueled your defiance, making you even more resistant to his authority. He should’ve known that you were going to put up a fight in the first place. Yes, he knew that noble women were trained to be blushing brides, but the mere thought that you had to give up your life in your home kingdom as you know it for a man you’ve never met, and a man known for wars and bloodshed at that? Who was he kidding?

Of course you would despise him from ripping you away from your family, from the comfort of your home. Hell, he went through a similar situation with his own family. The mere notion that he was inflicting the same things he went through on you made his stomach churn. He needed to get up.

With that, Ghost shudders, rising from his bed, needing to clear his mind. He pulls on a pair of black pants and a black tunic alongside his balaclava, grabs his knife, and slips out of the guest room. The castle is shrouded in silence as Ghost moves through its dimly lit corridors. His mind races with thoughts of you, the enigmatic woman who now shared his fate. The air is deathly still and the moon hangs high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the castle grounds.

Ghost happens upon the hallway that leads to the garden. He notices the wooden doors are slightly ajar, pricking his instinctive protective senses. Immediately, he makes his way over to the door, reaching out to grab the handle. Before he can step outside, he hears a rustling of fabric and looks straight through the crack.

There you were, in all your glory, standing outside in the garden, a robe wrapped tightly around your frame. Ghost hesitates for a moment, torn between retreating unnoticed and going outside and confronting you. The moonlight accentuates the curves of your silhouette, and he can’t help but be captivated by the vulnerability you’re displaying outside, a stark contrast with the defiance he had grown accustomed to.

He leans against the doorframe, his presence still concealed in the shadows. It’s like you were a different person, the way your hand gently caresses flower petals as you stroll, the gentle breeze playing with your hair. There’s a rawness in your gaze, a depth of emotion that intrigues him more than he’d like to admit.

For a bit, Ghost remains hidden, an unseen observer of the woman who challenges every preconceived notion he had about his future wife. As if suddenly snapped out of his trance, he takes a few steps back, feeling as though he’s intruding on something personal. Ghost feels guilty for watching you so… calm in your garden.

He retreats, his footsteps carrying him away and down another hallway, the faint moonlight filtering through narrow windows his only guide. With a deep breath, he comes across a rather comfortable looking chair sitting in the hallway; one that’s surely only used as a mere decoration. Regardless, he sits down and pulls his knife out.

He twists it in his grip a few times, admiring the way it looks in his hands. He brings it closer to his face, inspecting the blade with scrutiny, until he notices a few smudges on it.

Can’t have that, can we? He thinks to himself.

The blade, a symbol of his title and the harsh realities of the life he leads, demands his attention. He meticulously cleans the smudges from the weapon, treating the knife as though it’s a holy item. Ghost’s hands move with a practiced precision, the rhythmic sound of the cleaning echoing in the silent corridor. The blade, once tarnished, now reflects the faint moonlight streaming through the windows, a gleaming testament to Ghost’s meticulous care. He wonders if you’ve ever had to wield a weapon before. Most likely, no. He would change that, once he trusted you more. Couldn’t give a combative person a knife now, can we? I’ll give you more time. But, I don’t doubt for a moment that you wouldn’t be able to carry such a thing in your pretty little hands.

Suddenly, a rustling of fabric pricks his ears. He immediately stands from his seat, the legs of the chair scraping across the floor. He knows it's you.

No use in you running now, he thinks.

“What’re you doin’?” he calls out, knowing damn well that you’re most likely going to lash out again.

He watches you as you slowly turn around, fear etched into your face. A change from your usual frown and furrowed brows. Ghost can see the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, the robe clutched tightly around you as if it were a shield. You take multiple steps back as your eyes flit down to the knife in his hand. He knows he must look intimidating right now, dressed in all black and a skull balaclava concealing his features, wielding a hefty looking knife. Yet, how soft you looked mere moments ago, your lips parting so prettily as your eyes rest on his figure.

“What are you doing?” you motion to the knife in his hand.

He swivels his head down at the knife in his hand, a faint smirk playing on his lips. You can’t see it, thanks to the balaclava. How predictable, of course you were going to point that out. Without hesitation, he takes the knife and flips in his hand before sheathing it in his pants pocket.

He watches you wince at the sudden movement, a flash of guilt courses through his veins for a moment. But he remembers that he can’t have you thinking that walking over him like you do now is acceptable.

“Thinkin’,” he responds, voice gruff. You flash him a look of confusion, still wary of your position. Ghost takes a step forward, his silhouette partially illuminated by the moonlight spilling through a window. He watches you take a quick step back, suddenly hating the way you look so small.

“What are you doin’?” he asks again, crossing his arms in front of his chest to act as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He can see the wariness in your eyes, the way you stare at his muscles, the guarded stance, and it amuses him, even though he tries not to show it.

“I don’t see how it's any of your business as to what I’m doing in my own home,” you retort, squeezing your robe tighter around your body.

He takes a breath, a low chuckle escaping. But you’re right. He has no right to question what you’re doing in your own home. After all, he’s the one who’s a guest here, not the other way around. You have the right idea being wary of him, a monster of a man, being awake and roaming the palace halls at this hour of the night. But, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of protection for you. A woman alone at this hour of the night?

He brushes off those thoughts, not wanting to let you win. Yet, he also wants to answer a small question he has. Would you back down? Now, at first, when he thought he would be receiving a blushing bride, he was going to treat her as kind as he possibly could. But now that his “blushing bride” is a noncompliant, fiery woman, he wants to make sure of another thing. That you would have the ability to stand up for yourself even in moments of pressure, especially in moments of pressure from him.

“Listen here, sweetheart,” he says with another hidden smirk.

“I’m not tryin’ to pry, but you've been actin’ a certain way ever since I’ve arrived. I don’t appreciate it,” he states plainly, shifting slightly.

He doesn’t miss the glare you throw at him, fingernails clutching into your robe tightly. How he wishes those fingernails would be buried in his back.

“Well, you can mind your own business. I don't need your so-called ‘concern.’ Why do you think I’m acting this way?”

A really good fuckin’ question with an equally obvious answer, is what he wants to say.

But he refuses to answer, pride welling up inside of him. Ghost takes a cursory glance at you again, noting the way you’re almost curled into yourself. You’re afraid of him. He couldn’t shake the image of you standing beneath the willow tree, how carefree and soft you looked then.

Without thought, Ghost takes a step towards you again, but this time, you don’t move. How intriguing. He takes another step, waiting for you to give in, back down from whatever you’re thinking about right now. He takes another step, giving you another chance to move, a chance to show him that you're not willing to back down. How perfect. Put me in my place, this is what I deserve, he thinks.

Ghost is now mere inches away, and you still haven’t moved. Good princess.

Your neck is craned up to look at him, disdain written on your face.

He reaches his fingers up to your cheek, the pads of his fingers just barely ghosting over your skin as he makes his way to push stray strands of hair behind your ear. And the most surprising part of it all is that you let him. Now, he thinks he’s misjudged you. A spoiled princess? No. A woman who knows how to stand her ground.

He can see you go as stiff as a board under his touch, your chest heaving as your heart rate picks up. He can see the pulse in your neck clearly. His eyes flit towards your bosom for a split moment, then he pulls his hand away.

“Hmm,” he hums, a glint in his eyes. Interesting.

And, without a word, he makes his way down the hallway silently, heading in no particular direction. He can feel your eyes boring into his back, and he feels a flash of pride, secretly hoping his stature impresses you. I know it does.

At the end of the day, he doesn’t aim to break you; he just wants to figure you out. You’ll both be officially bound together in the next few days when he finally proposes to you, whether you like it or not. He can’t deny the conflict within himself — the desire to unravel you clashes with the knowledge that he’s pushing the boundaries. All these contradictions, and you’re driving him crazy. Why does he want to kiss you and fight you at the same time?

He pulls the knife back out from his pocket, studying the reflection of his eyes in the blade. He wants to get to know the woman he had seen out in the garden.

Time will tell.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

173 notes · View notes

zonigiri · 2 years ago

Text

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐄

pairing: wano!zoro x reader

summary: unfortunately, you have a crush on zoro and zoro is in love with someone else and so, cue: pining (or so you think)

wc: 3.3k

cw: fluff + reader smokes + potentially inaccurate wano arc details because I haven’t caught up with the manga but i had to get this out sorry!!

a/n: i had to get this out of my head and i haven’t written anything in a while and so reqs/ideas/feedback on asks are welcome!

Clinking glasses, boisterous laughter and sounds of revelry filled the air. The kingdom of Wano was celebrating the end of Kaido’s reign and of the ill-famed prophecy coming to fruition after two long decades. As always, your crew was in the centre of the limelight. Luffy was predictably surrounded by piles of empty plates on one side and plates loaded with food on the other. Ussopp and Chopper were merry-making, Robin, Nami and Franky were engaged in conversation with Yamato-kun and Tsuru-san, Brook was playing with some children and you couldn’t see Sanji anywhere. Probably escorting some damsel in distress somewhere, was your best bet. And in a corner of the room, surrounded by Kin’e’mon, Duke Dogstorm and Cat Viper was Zoro – all of them going through barrels of sake like running water. With the burden of Kaido off everyone’s shoulders, everyone felt lighter, freer. So why was there a heaviness in your heart?

You excused yourself from the people around you and you went outside the room to take a deep breath. Maybe looking at the stars would remind you again how insignificant your troubles were. You chastised yourself for feeling the way you did when there were people that had lost their loved ones in the war and in the years preceding it, and once again you wished that matters of the heart could be reigned over by logic. You’d carried a thing of sake with you and there were strains of faint music coming in from somewhere and so you took unladylike sips while staring up at the stars in the sky, willing all other thoughts out of your brain.

“Oi, what are you doing out here?,” a familiar gruff voice rang out behind you. Jolted out of your thoughts and nearly choking on the sake, your eyes widened as you turned around to find Zoro. However, before you could get a word in, he spoke again, and your chest felt heavy again.

“Shitty-cook was looking for you.” Oh. It was probably too much to have expected Zoro to notice your absence and come find out in the middle of a banquet with free-flowing sake. You should’ve known better.

As if right on cue, another familiar voice filled with half-hearted anger and pure annoyance called out from a distance. “Oi Marimo, where the hell have you been? Hiyori-chan’s been looking for you all night, how dare you keep a lady waiting?” Your heart lurched again hearing Hiyori’s name and as Zoro turned around to face Sanji, Sanji spotted you. His tone changed immediately as he called out to you this time, sweetly and with no trace of earlier frustration, “Hellooo YN-chan, didn’t see you there! Are you enjoying the party? Was mosshead over here, bothering you?”

“Haaa?!”

You let out a little laugh and a wave, with a smile you hoped was convincing enough, the same time as Zoro let out an accusatory curse.

“Hey, Sanji! I’m alright thanks, I was looking for you actually. Can I have a cigarette?”

“Of course, anything for you!” Sanji trips over himself trying to get out his pack of cigarettes and insists on lighting it for you. Having completed it, he turns around to see Zoro still standing there, staring at the two of you. “You stupid Marimo, didn’t I tell you Hiyori-chan’s waiting for you? Don’t you have any manners? I can’t believe she would pick you over me. She’s the most beautiful woman in the whole country, why would she even want a brute like you?! Don’t keep her waiting, you ill-mannered animal!” Sanji all but kicks Zoro, as if sending him flying to Hiyori’s feet might make up for however long she’s been waiting. For a second it looks like Zoro and Sanji are going to butt heads for the nth time but Zoro simply twists his face into a scowl, decides against it and walks off, grumbling under his breath. You turn back to rest your elbows on the parapet as you watch the smoke billow away into the night sky.

“So, Zoro and Hiyori, huh?,” you say with a little laugh.

Sanji lets out a scoff, takes a drag as if to compose himself, and then speaks, “Can you believe it?”

You don’t answer him and the two of you finish your cigarettes in silence afterwards. You offer Sanji your remaining sake and he graciously accepts. The two of you walk back to the banquet hall and instinctively your eyes scan the room for Zoro – he is nowhere to be found. And then, cautiously and against your best interests, you scan the room for Hiyori – she is nowhere to be found either. You can feel the bile rising in your chest as you scan the room a third time, this time for signs of either of them, but nothing. Putting two plus two together, you walk into the room with a heavier heart than you’d left. Walking over to the banquet table, you grab two bottles of sake and go join the group nearest to you. Chopper was putting chopsticks up his nose and the entire group was in splits – it was easy to pretend you were having fun too.

Back on the ship, you try your best to give Zoro as wide a berth as possible and hope it goes unnoticed. In your defense, it’s nothing obvious – it’s not like you’re walking the other way when you see him. You didn’t really want to either. Your heart might have been hurting but even then, you couldn’t deny how good he looked doing push-ups on the deck of the Sunny. Well into his 500’s, brazenly shirtless, and sweat glistening like molten gold on his brown skin in the sunlight. Had you not been bothered about giving him some space, you likely would’ve been staring at him shamelessly and Robin would’ve passed a cheeky comment about flies going into your open mouth. With a heavy sigh, and a slightly heavier heart, you go back to the book you were reading.

Days pass like this, with you toeing a thin line doing your best to keep your distance while trying to not make it obvious to anyone. This was just a passing crush and from past experience you’d learned that the best, and probably only way, to deal with it was to bide your time and let it fade away on its own. You only wondered how long it would take this time, because there was a limit to the pangs of pain you could tolerate.

You were sitting in the crow’s nest, knees to your chest and cradling the book you were reading when a movement drew your attention to the door. Zoro walked in with weights and set them down on the floor next to you.

“Should I- do you need the room?” you asked getting ready to get up, hoping simultaneously he’d say yes and no to appease the two splits your heart was in.

“Stay,” he grunted under his breath and he turned around and began setting up his equipment.

Long ago the two of you had come to an agreement to tolerate, and allow, only each other in this little sacred space the two of you had managed to create for yourselves on the Sunny. You reading in silence while Zoro worked out nearby was a near-natural occurrence for the two of you and naturally it often led to small talk, casual conversation and eventually playful banter. You’d spent nights up here on watch, drinking from the secret alcohol stash that Zoro and you had hidden away underneath the floorboards. The more you thought about all the memories you have of the two of you in the room where you were, the more the awkwardness of the present moment was stifling, closing in your heart and squeezing it in desperation. It was too far gone now, there was no escape. If you left now, it would make it even more obvious so all you could hope for was that Zoro hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Although with the way you’d tried to leave earlier… Zoro was an idiot but unfortunately, the bastard could be observant when he wanted to. It was all you could do to stare into the book in your hands, boring your eyes into the words on the page and registering none of them.

Wordlessly you slid back into place, watching him curiously as he arranged the weights on the racks with his back to you. Thanks to your efforts, you had never been alone with him ever since you’d left Wano. You’d made it a point to always stay on the deck, with others in company and sight, to prevent yourself from the exact situation that you were in right now. You knew Zoro liked to train in the crow’s nest, but it was also your favourite place to read a book for similar reasons – it was quiet and far away from the chaos that the deck was almost always prone to.

Speaking of the devil, Zoro's voice cuts through the room, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno, you’ve seemed a little out of it ever since we left Wano.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, we haven’t- you haven’t come up to the crow’s nest to read or anything,”

“Oh.” Your heart flutters a little at the fact that he noticed, but the rational part of your brain shuts it down. That’s what a friend does. He cares about you, just not the way you do about him. “I uh- I wanted to give you some space.”

It was Zoro’s turn to look confused. “Hah? Why?”

“I thought you might need some time to get over….” your voice dies down as the confusion in Zoro’s eyes increases. “Get over what?” The pure obliviousness almost makes you question yourself but for the sake of your sanity, you decide to press on. “Over Okiku-san?” you say softly. You see his eyes soften at the mention of her name.

“Oh. Yeah, I visited her grave with Kin’e’mon before we left.” You nodded understandingly. “If that’s what you’re worried about, I’m fine.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Miss her? I only knew her for a week.”

“Then… do you miss Hiyori-san?”

“Haaah?! How do you know about that? Did someone tell you? I bet it was Brook he has awful fucking timing. Just like that morning….” Zoro grumbled under his breath.

Your heart sinks a little as you recall he’s referring to the night that they slept together. You remember feeling devastated when Brook was telling you and Nami and you had to do everything in your power to act like it was scandalizing gossip and not like it felt like your heart was like a rock dropping rapidly into the sea. And it was happening again.

“No one told me, I just… guessed. I’m sorry,” you say softly, trying to stop tears from falling.

“What for?”

“It must suck to leave someone you love behind.” A pause and then you offered honestly, “I don’t know if I could do it.”

“Who did I leave behind?”

“Hiyori-san?”

You could see the gears in his brain turning as he tried to put the pieces together, “And who do I love?”

“Hiyori-san….?”

“Where the hell did you get that from?!”

“From you?!" Zoro continued to stare at you like you were spouting nonsense and so you added in your defense, "I thought she confessed to you on the night of the banquet!”

“She did,” but before you could say anything Zoro spoke again, "But I turned her down.”

“Oh. So it was Okiku-chan then?”

“Haaa?! Where are you getting any of this from?! You’ve been acting strangely ever since we left Wano and now you keep fuckin’ talking about me being with people I haven’t ever thought about that way. Do you think I’m like ero-cook over there, who falls in love with every single girl he meets? Is that really what you think of me?”

“No,” you whisper, tears threatening to spill any moment now. You’d never seen Zoro this annoyed, and never at you. Zoro turns around and starts putting his weights back, his back to you. “Forget it, I just wanted to see if you’re okay but I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

Your heart sank to your knees and all the arguments you'd been using to not confess to him suddenly fell away. All that was left was your need to explain to Zoro that you'd never meant to piss him off, only to try and know who he liked because you liked him. You spoke before you realized you were doing it, and before you knew it the words had already left your wobbly lips in a shaky whisper.

“Zoro, I’m sorry. I like you.”

Hearing your trembling voice, Zoro turned around and walked over to stand a few steps away from you. You could feel his eyes on you and you’re sure he had questions, but you were also sure there were tears in your eyes; and so you were staring holes into the ground because the last thing you wanted now was for Zoro to see you cry.

Zoro’s voice was softer when he spoke, “I like you too. Are you alright? You know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you, right?” He didn’t know what was going on and your sudden change in behaviour only confused him even further.

Incredulous, you looked up to face him, brimming tears now forgotten. You wondered if you should let it pass since your tortured confession was wildly misunderstood by the swordsman who really had moss for brains at times but now that you’d come out and said it, you figured you might as well get it over and done with. It had taken you months to get this far, and the part of you that was sick playing pretend just wanted to let it all go to flames and see where the pieces fell in the aftermath. You weren’t sure if you could handle another day of acting like Zoro was just a friend to you and another night of going to bed wondering what it would be like if you had the courage to tell him how you felt.

“Zoro no, I like you," gathering courage you started tentatively with a shaky breath and hoped that this time the confession would go through. "I was, I was upset because Brook told us about Hiyori and you and then Luffy told us about Okiku-san and then she died the night of the fight and then- it was all a lot to process and- and I was jealous. And hurt. And I didn’t know how to handle it so I thought avoiding you would help because I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.”

Your voice went back to a wobbly whisper by the end, and so you missed the way Zoro was looking at you. You’d looked up briefly at some point during your long-winded defense but you'd gone back to the comfort of staring at the ground, talking about this was hard enough. Was it because you'd seen the way Zoro's eyes had widened? Possibly, but you were shaking with nervousness and there was only so much you could admit to on a day when all you were planning to do was finish your book, really. Hearing you talk, his expression had gone through shock, mild distaste at hearing you thought he liked Okiku which immediately changed to a smirk as soon as he heard you say you were jealous. Right now, there was only half a smirk on his face because he was fighting a smile that was threatening to show up.

“Stupid woman, why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?”

“That you liked me." Your head shot up at that and all you could do was stare wordlessly at him as he continued, each next word causing another heartbeat to miss, leaving you with an anxiousness you felt bubbling in the depths of your chest. "Could’ve avoided all these tears if you’d told me earlier. ‘Cause I like you too.”

Your eyes widened hearing him and all of a sudden your brain went blank. All the questions you had for him disappeared and all you could do was look at Zoro wordlessly as he continued to speak.

“I turned Hiyori down because I told her I like someone else, have liked, for a long time now. It’s you, dummy. I like you. Now, will you stop crying? You’re kinda ruining the moment here.”

He gently flicked your forehead and you smacked his arm out of reflex with an offended squawk. A grin broke out on Zoro’s face, “There we go, that’s my girl. Glad to have you back, princess.”

A watery smile made its way onto your face but you were still trying to process what you'd just heard.

“You turned down Hiyori-san… for me? She’s the oiran," your voice faltered as you re-realized the reality.

“Yeah, so?"

"She's the most beautiful girl in all of Wano."

"Yeah well, I think you're prettier." Your eyes widened at his words, tears long halted, as you looked up at him in awe. Like you couldn’t believe the moment you're in is real. Zoro's hands cup your face, his face inches away from yours, as he asks under his breath, "Can I- can I kiss you?"

You nod as if in a daze and you feel his lips on yours immediately afterwards, hungry and hot. His other hand grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him in a single jerk and then he digs his fingers into the skin of your waist, holding you so tight it would've hurt had you been focusing on that instead of drinking his gasps and little groans in. Breaking away from the kiss and looking into Zoro's eyes, you saw a searing look in there that would've buckled your knees had he not been holding you. Tiptoeing, you pressed a shorter, chaste kiss onto his lips and hoped Zoro could feel what you were trying to say: thank you, thank you.

Pulling away, you make yourself comfortable in Zoro's hold, looping your arms around his neck and when you speak there's a twinkle in your eyes, "So… you had a crush on me, huh? That's embarrassing."

"Oi! You said you liked me first!"

You throw your head back and laugh, because yeah he's got you there but you've got him now so you can't be a sore loser. Not today, anyway.

BONUS:

It's late at night and you're lying next to Zoro on the deck, staring up at the sky. The remainder of the day was spent skirting around each other, sharing furtive glances and shy smiles when others weren't looking. Telling others hadn't come up yet but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't been thinking about what this meant for the both of you. With that thought still lingering, you piped up.

"Soo, does this mean we're dating?"

"Nope."

"What?! Why not?" you cried out in indignation and propped yourself up on your elbows to turn to him, offense painted all over your face.

"You still have to ask me out," Zoro pointed out.

"I confessed to you!"

"Exactly, that's why you have to ask me out."

"You-" The logic didn't make any sense but you of all people knew it was futile to argue with Zoro when he'd made up his mind. So you lay back down with a sigh, "Fine. Fine. Roronoa Zoro, will you be my boyfriend?"

You turn to him after you finish your question, staring into his eyes with only a slight glare, loving annoyance pricking your tone but you both know it's harmless. Zoro matches your stare with his own and doesn't speak but leans in closer towards you to close the gap with a kiss he hopes answers your question: a resounding yes. But just in case you hadn't received the message, he mumbles it softly against your lips, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to say yes."

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece x reader #zoro x yn #roronoa zoro x yn #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro fluff #one piece fluff #one piece x yn #t.writes #roronoa zoro

995 notes · View notes

sunafc · 6 months ago

Text

accidentally in love - 18, war is over

taglist: @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @gigiiiiislife @phoenix-eclipses @needtoloveoutloud @azharyy @dearneverland @sleepystrwbrryy @oliwiasworlds @iluv-ace @rrosiitas @staygoldsquatchling02 @p4ndawrites @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @loveliepa @nnnyxie @iluvaquaphor @juliluvhz @kodzuken-hoe @luvvmae @sunset-venuz @xiakyo @xxoperatexx @mfcherry

if u want to be added to the taglist let me know in the comments 🩷

‘Y/n you can leave now, if you want,’ your coworker tells you.

‘Are you sure?’

She nods, ‘Yeah I just need to close the cashier and we’re done, besides...’ she smiles at you and tilts her head towards the door, ‘I think your boyfriend is waiting for you.’

‘What?’ You look outside and you spot Oikawa waiting just outside the bookstore, ‘He’s not...’ you sigh, ‘Whatever, thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ you grab your bag and wave her goodbye.

You exit the store and Oikawa’s eyes quickly find yours.

‘Can we talk?’ He asks, eyes pleading, ‘I need to tell you something.’

You were planning on talking to him tomorrow, might as well do it now.

‘Yeah,’ you fidget with your bag, ‘Let’s sit in the park.’

There’s a park close to the bookstore, you always see moms with their kids walking by the store to get to it while you work.

The walk to the park is silent and you can feel Oikawa staring at you from time to time but you don’t dare looking back. When you get there you look for free bench a little more far away from all the other people.

‘I know you said you need time,’ Oikawa says, ‘But I missed you,’ he drops his gaze, ‘And before you can say anything please let me say this one thing,’ he turns to you, runs his fingers through your hair, ‘Okay I’m just gonna say it,’ he lets out a deep sigh and his shoulders fall, ‘I accidentally fell in love with you.’

What?

Your friends did tell you there was a good chance he would reciprocate your feelings but you weren’t expecting him to tell you know, like this. And mostly...

‘Accidentally?’ You ask almost letting out a laugh, all your worries disappearing.

‘Don’t laugh at me, Y/n,’ he pouts.

‘I’m sorry, I’m not, just... what does that even mean?’

‘You told me not to fall for you,’ he says, ‘And I didn’t mean to, so it was an accident.’

This time you do let out a chuckle, ‘Alright well, I didn’t mean to tell you this way and I didn’t mean to tell you today but,’ you smile, ‘I also fell for you, Tooru.’

He’s grinning and he almost pulls you in for a kiss, he gasps almost too dramatically, ‘You told me not to, just for you to fall for me?’

‘I know, that’s pretty stupid...’ you look at him in the eyes, ‘Must have been an accident on my side too.’

He laughs, he pulls you closer and makes you sit on his lap. You’re facing each other and you can’t hide the grin creeping up on your face. You’re feeling all warm inside.

‘I also need to apologize,’ you say, ‘I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly last week,’ Oikawa cups your face and you lean into his touch, ‘And also for not texting you at all and yeah I should’ve just told you everything before.’

‘Aw, Y/n, it’s alright,’ one of his hands holds the back of your neck and the other grazes your cheek, ‘I just hope you know I’m never letting you go now,’ he gives you a peck.

You giggle, ‘I wouldn’t want it any other way,’ this time you lean in for a sweet kiss.

Oikawa doesn’t let you break it off too quickly, pulling you closer and closer. He kisses you and you can feel all the feelings you didn’t share until today in they way he holds you.

‘Mhm, wait,’ you hold him back, ‘We’re in a park, Tooru, there are kids.’

‘Killjoy,’ he pouts but quickly smiles again, ‘I’m so happy,’ he lets his shoulder relax, ‘I love you.’

notes:

• makki definitely starts fan wars on twitter all the time for fun and giggles i just know it

• finally they got it together!!!!! are u guys happy ⁉️

• if there are typos in the written portion don't mind them pls 🙂‍↕️

• for the people who asked to be added to the taglist but don't see their names: tumblr won't let me tag u for some reason so i'm sorry abt that 🙁

previous - masterlist - next

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x you #oikawa smau #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa

114 notes · View notes

unnerving-presence · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, i just read the coochie unhooking and im in love omg 🥲💕 could we have another part with the huntress, pyra and a third one of your choice? Thank you, you're the best 👀💕

GAGAGAGGH YESSSS I LOVE THESE 😭 TARHOS HAS BEEN INFESTING MY BRAIN SO HE WILL BE THE LUCKY THIRD !!

ooc shit incoming this is literally abt them loving them thighs i do not gaf i tried to make them in character somewhat anyways hehe

could you tell i’m utterly obsessed w tarhos right now i wished i could’ve written more dear lord

i had already written this for huntress initially but i did want to revise it a bit to be more in character. still sort of experimenting with it all. enjoy though :)

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Anna:

Straight confusion and a.. little bit of panic? She’s never had her prey attempt something like what you did. It catches her so off guard she practically thrashes around as much as you do to get you off of her. She doesn’t like feeling so vulnerable and very much does not appreciate it when you manage to escape the hook and her alike. She can’t shake that ghostly feeling of your thighs around her. It’s like you’re still there. She can’t discern whether she likes the feeling or not.

You’re interesting prey, prey that she enjoys hunting. She mostly does it for necessity and to please the Entity, but she likes you. She likes that. She especially likes your drive to survive. It amuses her, makes her curious about you. Anna would be angry about the ordeal thinking about it, but it simply makes her intrigued now. She simply can’t brush aside the concept of your thighs around her. It was like a warm embrace she hadn’t felt since she was a child. She likes it.

She decides she will observe you more. Watch as you speak in a language she doesn’t understand and interact with those she sees as nothing more than human animals. You’re afraid, but you’re also determined. It’s cute. Perhaps she’ll conveniently place herself near the hook she puts you on next time, just to feel you fight to survive, just to feel those thighs around her again.

Pyramid Head:

Pyramid Head would have absolutely never expected this to happen.. ever? Considering his absolute fridge of a head he’s.. startled to say the least that you managed to both effectively wrap your thighs around him AND have enough leg strength to take him down AND unhook yourself. It doesn’t all come to mind at first but he’s definitely a bit aroused. Unfortunately, that is an emotion that fades quite quickly. He has a job to do, he would very much like to get back to that. If he could get back up from the ground from his big ass helmet holding him down 😭

Pyramid Head is simply indifferent about the situation. A tiny bit excited at the though, but would quickly move on. It would certainly stay in his mind if you had done it several times over though. Some part of him is glad he has this unbearable helmet over his head, he might have had a full system shutdown had your thighs gotten too close to his face, though your thighs being around him in the first place is more than enough to turn him on a bit, not that he acts on it of course. He prioritizes his role in this realm more than anything else.

Though he won’t pass up the opportunity to listen to your cries of pain if given the chance. They didn’t mean much to him before. But now he rather likes the sound. He’d even say he rather likes you more than anything else. Maybe he should stick extra close to you from now on. Perhaps you’ll try other suggestive methods of trying to escape him. Either way, it feeds into his desire to punish and his desire for you.

Tarhos Kovács:

Tarhos is trained for moments like this, when the enemy has the upper hand. He cut through hundreds of swordsmen far more experienced than you could ever wish to be. He wields his imposing claymore and knows he strikes fear into those that dare cross him. He is anything but one to be so easily defeated. It should’ve been impossible for him to be taken down by someone in such a pathetic position as yourself. It has to be the Entity’s assistance. It has to be. He can barely get himself together again before you dash up the stairs and out of his reach. He grumbles and pushes himself up off the ground, more determined than ever to put you in your place.

You don’t survive the trial, but it’s very clear you did something to him. He’s angry, but there’s some other emotion, like a smoldering fire that was once not even worth a passing glance had suddenly burst into a wildfire. It could be confused with bloodlust. He can barely tell the difference between the two until he sees you again by the campfire next to those worthless maggots. He watches only for a moment and in that moment he wants more. He wants more of whatever you did to him.

He will never come to terms with these feelings. He believes it’s your fault. Your existence shouldn’t even be welcomed in this place. You can so easily disrupt the balance of death, sacrifice, bloodshed. He wants nothing to do with you if you think you can deter him from his rightful privilege of endlessly butchering such peasants as yourself. He hates you more than he hates Vittorio, he thinks. Vittorio was an imbecile who thought he had the answers to peace. But you? God, you actually do something to him and you don’t even have to try.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #the huntress x reader #dbd anna x reader #pyramid head x reader #tarhos kovács x reader

372 notes · View notes

missrosegold · 1 year ago

Text

I met the devil by the window, traded my life

Synopsis: When horrendous acts of violence occur, they sometimes leave behind impressions that continue to linger long after the initial event. Rarely are they ever pleasant.

Sometimes, what’s left behind isn’t necessarily a something, rather, a someone.

You’re about to find that out the hard way.

Word count: 16k

Paring: Dabi x Reader (Fem Reader)

Warnings: Character Death, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, General Demon Mindfuckery, just know that Dabi is not a good person in this one, he's ment to be unhinged, so Minors or Ageless blogs DNI. This is rated 18+.

Written for @candycandy00 League of Villain's Horror Anthology Collab! Thank you so much for having me love! I hope you enjoy my contribution! I had a lot of fun with this one!

Thank you to the lovely @kimkaelyn for the beautiful banner - and thank you for all the encouragement you've given me recently, it means the world to me. 💙

(Shamelessly inspired by Poltergeist and Silent Hill)

**You can read it on A03 here if the formatting on Tumblr is throwing you off! I cross-post all my works onto my A03 account!

You should’ve known something wasn’t right when you stumbled across the Air B&B booking.

It was too good to be true. You weren’t dumb. Realistically, you knew that anything that was too good to be true, normally was, and you should avoid it like the plague, but for once, you decided to indulge your curiosities a little.

You had been looking for a place to stay while travelling abroad in Japan with a few of your friends, when you had found the listing completely out of the blue. You remember reading the details the website had provided, your eyes bugging out of your head as you swiped to look at the pictures of the listing that were posted.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was perfect. It was a massive house, practically a mansion, located right in the heart of Shizuoka Prefecture. The mansion backed out onto a large nature preserve, and despite being located very close to the city’s core, it was private – a massive retaining wall surrounded the entire property, except for the far side of the yard, which backed out onto the forest that surrounded the property from the back.

The mansion itself was so large, it could easily house you and your three other friends for the two weeks you planned on being in the country for. Best of all: it was cheap. Really cheap. It was well under price compared to what all the other lodgings you’d looked at previously wanted for a two week stay.

You’d booked it for you and your friends without so much as a second though. How could you possibly pass on such a great deal? The simple answer was, you couldn’t.

You’d excitedly told your friends about what you found, and once they’d seen the listing for themselves, they had agreed that even if the house wasn’t exactly like what was shown, the price was too good to pass up on, and that any small issues the listing may or may not have could easily be overlooked.

It was too good to be true, and now you understood exactly why that was.

Currently, you’re running for your life though the same forest you had seen in the listing’s pictures, while your pursuer hunted you relentlessly through the dense brush.

You could feel the heat of the fire on your back behind you, the rancid smell of smoke burning your lungs as you struggled to keep your breathing even, but you didn’t dare stop running, nor did you spare a glance behind you, knowing full well what you’d see.

If you stopped, he’d catch you. If he caught you… God only knew what would happen to you then.

You dove behind a thick tree, clasping your hand over your mouth as you fought to calm your frantically beating heart, and level out your breathing. For a moment, you didn’t hear anything aside from the crackling of the fire behind you and the pounding of your own heart. You almost risked sticking your head out from behind your hiding spot to see if you had managed to lose your pursuer, until a voice cut though the smoke and haze surrounding you:

“Oh little mouse… where are you? Why don’t you come out and play? I don’t bite… much.”

You feel tears spring to your eyes involuntarily at the sound of the otherworldly rasp that cuts through the smoky air like a knife. He sounds close. Too close for comfort, but you don’t dare to try and run from your spot, too afraid of giving up your position to the man—no, the demon that was hunting you through the burning woods.

“C’mon darlin, I was just teasin’ you those other times. I wouldn’t actually hurt you. Not like your dumbass friends back there.”

There’s a horrible raspy snicker after that last comment, and you don’t bother to try and stop the tears you feel roll down your cheeks at the thought of your poor friends, and the state you left them in back at the mansion as you all but ran for your life:

Dead. Burnt down to little more than ash.

Such violent ends for girls who did nothing to deserve them.

You want to cry openly at the cruelty of his comment, but you know he’s baiting you. He wants you to show him where you are. You don’t believe him for a second when he says he won’t hurt you, when you’ve seen first-hand what he’s capable of.

A few seconds of silence pass aside from the ominous popping and crackling of the forest fire that’s steadily drawing closer to your location, before he seemingly loses patience with your lack of cooperation. In the most demonic sounding voice you’ve ever heard, he bellows:

“GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins as the creature seethes with barely suppressed rage. You don’t know what to do. If you stay where you are, you’re dead. If you go to him, you’re definitely dead. You’re fucked regardless of what you pick.

When he speaks again, he sounds smug, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as he calls out to you:

“I’m going to count to ten Doll. If you’re not out here by the time I’m done, I’ll burn this whole fucking forest down, and turn everything around it to ash.”

You let a muffled sob escape, not bothering to try and hide it now. Your sobs only grow harder as you hear him start to count in his chilling rasp, “One… Two… Three…”

You close your eyes, desperately trying to think of a way out; but there is no escape, you already know there isn’t. The demon that’s been hunting you through the forest for the last hour made sure of that when he set the mansion on fire, and subsequently, the surrounding forest.

Your mind goes blank as you take in your current reality, and despite everything, you find yourself thinking back to when this nightmare first started for you and your friends, nearly a week earlier when you arrived at the mansion…

-----

The mansion itself was an intimidating place.

It doesn’t look as foreboding from the other side of the retaining wall that surrounds the property – the massive gardens that sit just behind the wall are well maintained, and the house itself is clearly well taken care of, even though the website mentioned that no one has lived in the house for a little over a decade for some unknown reason.

You first get the impression that something is off with the house the moment you step through the front door. You set your bags down at the entrance, and take in the sweeping archways and long hallways that lead to other rooms of the house you’ve yet to explore with your friends, before you realize how still the interior of the house is.

Aside from the noise you and your friends are making as you move your bags inside, there’s no other sound in the house. As soon as the door to the outside closes, the inside of the house is completely silent.

You can’t put your finger on it, but something about the odd silence has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. You seem to be the only one affected by the interior of the house, as your friends are mindlessly chatting amongst themselves as they grab their bags and move further inward, presumably to do some exploring.

You best friend nudges your shoulder and gives you a small smile, snapping you out of your reprieve. “You okay? You’ve been really quiet since we got here.”

“I’m fine.” You tell her gently, brushing off your earlier concerns. “I’m just tired.”

She nods. “Same here. I think we’ll all feel better once we eat something and get some sleep. The flight over here was so long.”

Just then, one of your other friends loops back to where you and your best friend are standing, waving you both over.

“Hey! We’re just picking out rooms! Do you two wanna come take a look and see if there’s any you fancy? The second floor of the house is all bedrooms from what we can see.”

You both follow her up to the second floor of the house. Sure enough, the long hallway is lined with sliding panels that open into bedrooms. Some are open and some are still closed. Your other friend pops out from a room near the middle of the hallway and waves at you.

“Come take a look! I think all these rooms are bedrooms. Go see if there’s one you want to claim as our own, I already know which one I want.” She grins as she taps the sliding door of the room she’s in.

You laugh at her antics and move further down the hallway. “Have you explored all of them yet?”

“No, just the ones closest to the stairs and the ones near the middle. Haven’t gotten the chance to look at the ones at the end of the hallway.” She tells you honestly, jerking her thumb to the end of the hallway, where you can see two doors remain closed.

Your best friend follows you down the hallway, and opens up the panel on the right. “Oh wow. This must be the master bedroom.” She mutters as she peaks in the dim room. “Maybe we’ll just keep this one shut. Seems rude to sleep in the master bedroom. I’ll take one of the other rooms.”

You watch as she closes the panel again and moves back down the hallway to where your other friends are chatting, leaving you to the last door on the left. Just as you extend your hand to open the door, a sudden flash of heat runs up your extended hand and through your body, disappearing as quickly as it came, but it still causes you to pull your hand back with a gasp.

You inspect your hand, looking for signs of a burn, only to find nothing wrong with the skin of your palm. You stare blankly at the wood and paper paneling that makes up the sliding door, not sure what to make of what just happened, before you slowly pull the door open. This time, nothing prevents you from doing so.

You step into the dark room slowly, allowing your eyes to adjust to the dim before looking around. It looks as though no one has stepped inside the room for years, as you notice the thick layer of dust settled upon every available surface. The room looks like it once belonged to a young boy, possibly a pre-teen, as you note the posters of various superhero’s scattered about the otherwise bare walls.

A few pieces of furniture are pushed up against the walls, and for some reason your heart aches when you look at the small, twin-sized bed. Everything in the room feels dated, like nothing progressed past a certain point in time, and you can’t figure out why you feel like that, until you see it:

There, in the darkest corner of the room, is an ornate cabinet-like structure that looks similar to a closet, but something feels very off about the wooden structure. Just as you’re about to move towards it, your friends appear at the door, their happy chatter quieting down as they observe you.

“There you are! We were wondering when you dispersed to!” your one friend grins as she pushes her way into the room, looking around. “Huh, I guess the people who own this house have a bunch of kids. The other rooms aside from the master bedroom are all kid themed.”

You don’t respond, still trying to figure out what about the cabinet is bothering you so much, before your second friend approaches you, nodding to the dark wooden structure. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know.” You admit. “I don’t think it’s a closet though.”

“The website didn’t mention it?”

“No.” You mutter, brows furrowing together as you think back to the pictures you’d seen of the listing. “Actually, I don’t think they included any pictures of this room. I don’t remember seeing any.”

Your best friend makes her way to where you’re standing and squints at the cabinet for a second before her face sours.

“Not to be a downer, but I think this is a butsudan.”

You turn to her, eyebrow quirked in silent question, and she elaborates. “It’s like a home shrine for family members who’ve died. They keep ashes or pictures of the person in there some times.”

“No way, there’s like… somebody’s ashes in there?” your first friend speaks, shuddering, and your best friend shrugs.

“Sometimes, not always though.” She glances around the room. “Really hoping I’m wrong about that, since this is a kid’s room…” she trails off uncomfortably, but the implication of her words is clear:

A child who lived here at some point, died.

For some unexplainable reason, you suddenly feel drawn to the wooden structure and you slowly cross the room until you’re standing directly in front of the doors. Just as you’re about to reach out to open them, your second friend’s voice stops you.

“What are you doing?” she asks, a nervous laugh in her voice. “I don’t think you should touch that.”

“I’m just going to take a peek.” You reassure her, placing your hands on the doors. “If someone has to sleep in this room, I wanna make sure there isn’t a child’s ashes in here.” You cast a pointed look at them. “I’m assuming it’s going to be me. You’ve all taken the other rooms aside from the master, and I don’t think anyone wants to sleep in there out of respect.”

When your friends don’t protest, you sigh and pull the doors open without a second thought, expecting the worst. Thankfully, no urn stares back at you, but something else does:

A picture of a boy, no older then thirteen or fourteen peers back at you through the gloom of the dark cabinet.

You suck in a breath as you take in the boy’s delicate features. He’s young, baby-faced, even though his shockingly white hair would suggest he’s much older than he appears. The other thing you immediately notice about the boy, are his eyes. His eyes are a startling shade of blue, a stark contrast from the surrounding darkness in the room, and before you can stop yourself, you’ve reached out to gently take the picture off its place on the mantal to have a closer look.

The instant the photo leaves the mantal, the same rush of heat flashes through you, only this time it’s worse. This time you feel like you’re being burned alive as liquid fire curses through your veins. The pain is so bad, it locks you in place, unable to scream as you feel like you being incinerated from the inside out. All the while, you’re unable to release your grip on the picture frame in your hands.

Suddenly, two piercing blue eyes surrounded by gnarled purple skin cut across your vision. They glare at you ominously before blinking out of existence, and as quick as the burning sensation came on, it vanishes.

You let out a gasp, and the picture frame slips through your fingers and crashes to the floor, the glass pane protecting the photo, shattering and splintering into pieces as the boy’s deep blue eyes stare back up at you amidst the mess of glass and wood.

“Shit.” You breathe as you stoop down to pick the old photo out from underneath the glass.

“What was that about?” your best friend asks you worriedly, glancing between you and the shattered frame. “We tried calling your name, but you didn’t respond to us. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… Did you not see that?” you croak, holding onto the photo in your hands gently. “The—the eyes? You didn’t see the eyes?”

“Eyes? What are you talking about?” your other friend pipes up. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting super spacy.”

“Yeah, I’m… fine… just… fine.” You mutter as you glace down at the photo. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“We’ll go into town tomorrow and see if we can find a new frame for it.” Your best friend interjects quickly, seeing the distressed look on your face. “Let’s see if we can get this cleaned up. If you’re sure about sleeping in this room, I don’t want you getting glass in your feet. You get yourself situated; we’ll go find a broom.”

She leads your two other friends out of the room and you find yourself alone. You slowly place the photo back down at the alter and rub your temples tiredly.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter to the picture of the boy, even though you know he can’t respond. “I didn’t mean to do that. I’ll get you another frame. I promise.”

Just as you’re about to close the doors to the shrine again, something catches your eye. Just under the spot where the picture frame sat, there’s an engraving on the shelf. Squinting down at the neat characters, you’re just able to make out a name carved into the dark wood.

Todoroki Touya

The next morning you wake up feeling like you didn’t sleep at all.

You roll over with a groan and take in your surroundings blearily. You had ended up taking the room with the home shrine in it for yourself, but you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to use the small bed the room provided. Instead, you’d taken the pillows and top blanket off, and arraraged them into a small cot at the foot of the bed. It wasn’t the worst makeshift bed you’d ever used, but you hadn’t been able to make yourself comfortable all night – torn between feeling racked with guild over dropping the picture, and feeling like you were being watched.

The second feeling you couldn’t explain. You had woken up multiple times during the night, feeling like there were eyes on you, only for nothing to be there when you looked around your immediate surroundings. Each time you’d woken up, it had taken you ages to fall back asleep, leaving you drained by the time the first morning sunbeams filtered into the room from the covered window.

You opt to stay in bed for a little while longer, only heading downstairs when you hear the distant sounds of your friend’s voices floating up from the hall. You trudge downstairs, following the sounds emanating from what you assume is the kitchen, only to find your friends in the middle of making breakfast.

Your best friend looks up as you enter the kitchen, a small smile plastered on her face.

“Good morning.” She greats you kindly, passing you a plate piled high with eggs and breakfast meats. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not really.” You admit as you accept the plate. “I kept waking up during the night. Couldn’t get comfortable.”

“I still can’t believe you slept in that room.” Your other friend interest, biting into her toast. “You couldn’t pay me to sleep in there with that… thing.”

She doesn’t need to say it for you to know what she’s talking about. You shrug your shoulders and dig into your eggs.

“Didn’t feel right sleeping in the master bedroom. Honestly the room is nice, that’s not the issue. It’s just really… quiet in there.”

“Maybe it’s haunted.” Your other friend chimes in with a giggle, and you roll your eyes.

“With my luck it will be. Pretty sure I’m going to have a vengeful spirit on my ass after I dropped that picture.” You joke as you stare down at your food. “I’m going to go into town after this and see if I can find a replacement frame. I still can’t believe I did that.”

“I’m surprised they never had any pictures of that room on the booking site.” You best friend mutters as she slots herself next to you at the countertop. “That seems a little weird.”

“Well, the website said that no one’s lived in this house for a while. Maybe something happened to one of the kids.” You supply, and your friends grimace at your suggestion.

“You think maybe they’d mention that on the listing. You know; this house is haunted by a ghost child, stay at your own risk.” Your friend across from you quips, causing you to snicker.

“Some people pay big money for that. If anything, they could use it as a selling point. But I doubt it. I don’t believe in ghosts.” You finish up your breakfast and put your plate in the sink. “I’m going to get changed and head into town. I’ll be back in an hour or so, and then we can do some exploring.”

Your friends let out a muffled chorus of agreed noises, before going back to their breakfast, leaving you to head back upstairs to change. You shut the door to your room behind you and flick on the light so you can pull out some clothes out of your bag.

Just as you’re about to pull your sleep shirt over your head; a wave of heat flashes through your body like lightening, and suddenly, you feel the same soul-piercing eyes on you again.

You gasp, and slam your shirt back down, covering your exposed breasts again with a shudder. You glance around the room wildly; half expecting to see someone lurking in one of the corners, but just like the other times before; no one’s there. You’re alone, even though the prickling of your skin is telling you otherwise.

You don’t dare move from your spot, as you still feel like you’re being watched by something, but after a few moments the feeling dissipates, and you feel your body relax as the tension you didn’t realize you were holding onto, bleeds out.

You change quickly and do your makeup, before grabbing your purse and bidding your friends a quick “bye!”, before heading out the front door, and out into the warm sunshine.

Outside of the house, everything feels better. The atmosphere is more inviting compared to the almost oppressive feeling the upstairs gives off, and you find your anxious feelings fading away as you make your way into town.

You eventually find a shop that sells all manor of things, and decide to try your luck inside. The old woman behind the counter greets you with a smile, and just as you’re preparing to use what little Japanese you know, the woman greets you in perfect English.

“Hello dear. What bring you in today?”

You tell her what you’re looking for, and she leads you to a section of the shop where you can see a few wooden frames tucked away in a corner. As you pick out one that looks like it would fit the photo, the woman asks you how long you’d been in Japan for.

“My friends and I arrived last night actually.” You tell her with a smile as you pay for the frame. “We’re going to do some exploring around town when I get back. I’m just here to get a replacement for a picture I dropped last night.”

The older woman hums as she bags your purchase. “I see. Where are you staying dear?”

“I think it’s called the Todoroki house? I can’t remember the exact name of the listing.”

The old woman freezes just as she’s about to give you the bag. Her face displays a myriad of emotions, but the most dominate look on her face is concern… with what appears to be a tinge of fear.

“Do you mean the house that borders Sekoto Peak?” she murmurs quietly. “The one that backs out onto the forest?”

“That’s the one.” You confirm as you gently take the bag from her. “How did you—”

“You shouldn’t stay there.” The older woman cuts you off, shaking her head. “You and your friends should find another place to stay while you’re here.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” you press, causing the woman to swallow heavily. She smooths back a strip of white hair and mutters,

“Bad things have happened in that house. Nasty things.”

“What sort of things?” you ask as you flex your grip on the bag handles. The older woman looks around the store, almost as if she’s checking to see if someone is listening in, before she leans in towards you.

“That house has sat empty since the fire, and for good reason.”

“Fire? What fire? The listing never mentioned anything about a fire.” You mutter. The woman shakes her head, causing white strands of hair to fall out of her bun.

“It wouldn’t. the fire happened over ten years ago. Awful thing. The entirety of Sekoto Peak went up in a blaze. It almost burned down the Todoroki household with all of them in it.”

“All of them?”

The woman nods sagely. “The Todoroki’s. Enji, his wife Rei, and their four children: Fuyumi, Natsuo and the youngest, Shoto.”

“That’s three.” You correct her quietly, “What happened to the fourth?”

The woman’s thin lips press into a firm line, and once again, she looks around the shop nervously. Once she’s content that you’re alone, she continues:

“Their oldest boy died in the Sekoto fire. The blaze was so hot, it turned his bones into ash. There was nothing left for his family to burry.”

You feel tears spring to your eyes involuntarily at her admission. Suddenly, your mind wanders back to the butsudan sitting in your room, and the shattered picture of the snowy-haired boy you found in it.

“What was his name?” you ask her gently. The woman hesitated for a moment, before she sighs, and mutters under her breath,

“Touya Todoroki.”

You feel your blood turn to ice in your veins as you remember the name you found engraved into the dark wood where the picture sat.

Touya. So that was whose room you were staying in, and that was how he died: Burnt to ash and scattered into the wind.No wonder his family didn’t have his ashes in his shrine: there wasn’t anything left of him to grieve.

And you had dropped his fucking picture, shattering it. For all you know, that’s the only thing his family has left of him. The bag you’re holding onto suddenly feels a thousand times heavier in your grasp as you hold it tighter.

If the woman senses your inner turmoil, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she continues on, snapping you back to the present.

“We started hearing about some strange things happening around the house. Sometimes the family would come home and the house would be trashed, other times rooms would smell of smoke even though no one had been burning anything…” she paused. “and then the children started seeing things.”

“What kind of things?” You lift your head so you’re looking the older woman in the eyes as she quickly tacks on,

“No one’s really sure. Supposedly they’d wake up in the middle of the night claiming that were being watched, or something was standing in the room with them. Then some awful things started happening to little Shoto…bad things.”

You chew on your lip, not certain if you want to know what she means by that, but you nod, signaling for her to continue. The old woman swallows thickly. “We heard he was clawed multiple times in his sleep… among other things. Whatever was tormenting those children, Shoto got the worst of it. Things were not the same in that house after Touya died, but it didn’t stop.”

The woman frowns softly. “The lack of sleep, and the stress from her son dying must have gotten to Rei over time. Last we heard; she’d taken a kettle to Shoto… burned half of that poor child’s face. Her husband had her committed to a hospital immediately afterwards, and not even a week later, they were gone.”

“They… they just left? Just like that?” you ask subdued, thinking about the other rooms your friends were staying in, and how they were all kid themed. Now that you think about it; it really did seem like whoever last lived in the house left in a hurry. It almost seemed like they hadn’t taken anything with them.

Maybe now you were starting to see why.

“If memory serves, they bought another house closer to the city and moved there. They still own the one you’re staying in… they couldn’t find anyone to move into it, so now they rent it out… a mistake if you ask me.” The old woman informs you bitterly. “Bad things have happened at that place. Nothing ever good came from the other tourists staying in it.”

“Other tourists?” you pipe up, confused. “The site I was using to book made it look like the listing had only been up for a few weeks at most. It didn’t have any reviews or anything.”

The older lady only shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter my dear. Take your friends and find another place to stay. Get out of that house. Take it from me, It’s not worth it.”

Her tone let’s you know the conversation is over. You leave the shop without another word. Feeling lost and overwhelmed from what you discovered. You grip tightens around the handles of the bag as you make your way back to the house, determined not to let what the woman said bother you.

All the while, all you can think about is the pair of cold blue eyes from the other night in your minds eye, staring into your soul, and a part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s some truth to what the older woman told you.

By the time you get back to the house your friends are gone.

A note on the kitchen counter from your best friend lets you know that your other two friends had gotten impatient, and wanted to do some exploring on their own. She writes that she left some lunch for you in the fridge, and that if you needed anything to text her.

You can’t really blame them for wanting to go out and do their own thing, after all, your errand had taken you longer than you thought it would have, and after everything you’d heard, you just wat to relax for a little bit.

You set the rest of your belongings down and make your way upstairs to the room at the end of the hallway. You stand in front of the sliding door for a moment, almost expecting to feel the familiar, burning sensation from before, but nothing happens, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief and, enter the dark room.

You set your bags down and pull out the new frame you’d picked up, before making your way over to the home shrine. You open the doors slowly and pull out the old picture of the snowy-haired boy. You smile sadly down at it as you slip the worn paper securely in between the wooden slates.

“Sorry Touya. I don’t know what caused the fire, but you didn’t deserve to die like that.”

A sudden wave of exhaustion rolls over you and you stumble backwards slightly. Maybe you were more tired than you originally thought. You think to yourself as you stumble over the to the small bed and collapse down onto it, ignoring your makeshift pile of blankets and pillows you used the night before, as your eyes slowly slide shut.

The last thing you remember seeing before your eyes closed completely was a hazy-looking figure standing in one o the dark corners adjacent to the bed.

-----

Dabi snorts as he watches your eyes close.

Humans are such simple creatures; a mere fraction of his power could send even the strongest-willed ones into the deepest slumber, or curse them with everlasting nightmares if he so chose.

He would know, he’s done it so many times in the past, it’s hardly fun for him anymore.

Once he’s sure you’re not going to wake up, he glides over soundlessly to stare down at your prone form. Originally, he’d planned to kill you after you disrespected his shrine, but the look of horror on your face after he’d partially revealed himself to you, made him reconsider. It’d been so long since he’d seen fear look so delicious on someone – the sadist in him wanted to see more of it.

He told himself he was letting you live because you’d seemed remorseful enough after you’d shattered his picture, and he wanted to see what you’d do to fix the mess you’d created. You hadn’t disappointed him at least – you’d gone out and bought another frame to relace the one you’d broken, just as he heard you say you would. He was still mildly pissed off, but he figured he’d let you live for a little while longer.

At least you were… pretty. He mused to himself as he peered down at you. You had better manners then most of the other tourists who had been brave enough to stay at the house in the past, despite its history with the locals. Many had seen his shrine, and had been stupid enough to go poking around in places where they shouldn’t have, and he couldn’t have that.

Most people didn’t tend to make it past the first night.

Dabi snickers to himself as he backs away from you, allowing his body to turn to smoke once more, just as he hears the tell-tale sounds of your friends re-entering the house from the ground floor.

He wasn’t sure what had possessed you and your friends to stay at the house, but it had been a long time since he last had visitors. He thought he’d done a decent enough job scaring everyone away after the last batch of moronic tourists had come through, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

He’d watch you and your friends for a little while longer before he made himself known, he decided, as he left you alone to wake up slowly.

For now, he was content to sit back and observe. But he’d be out to play very soon.

-----

You wake up to the room smelling faintly of smoke.

You sit up with a groan and hold your head in your hands as you gain your bearings. You couldn’t even remember falling asleep, which was strange, considering you didn’t think you’d been out for very long. A quick glance at your phone confirms your suspicions, leaving you even more confused by what happened, until the sounds of your friend’s laughing downstairs catches your attention.

You stand up too quickly and stumble slightly as the light smell of smoke invades your nose again, making it crinkle.

What the hell? You didn’t remember the room being smokey before you passed out.

You look around the small room, trying to find the source of the smell, but your search turns up nothing, puzzling you further, until something the shop woman said earlier comes to mind:

Strange things started happening around the house; rooms would smell of smoke even though no one had been burning anything.

You fight down a laugh that tries to force its way out of your mouth. There was no way the house was haunted, even if the woman you spoke to earlier seemed convinced that it was. Obviously, the last owners of the house had suffered a terrible tragedy with the death of their eldest son, but that didn’t mean that the house itself was haunted. Even the oddities from the night before weren’t enough to truly convince you of that. You could chalk all of it up to you being overtired, which was probably exactly what it was.

The sounds of your friends from the first floor pulls you back to the present, and you make your way downstairs, suddenly grateful for the extra company. You enter the living room and are greeted with the sight of your friends gathered around the seated table in the middle of the room. They wave you over and you sit with them as they tell you about what they did while they were out.

“So, were you able to find a new frame?” your best friend asks you once there’s a lull in the conversation. You nod.

“Yeah, I got one. You’ll never believe what I found out about the house though.”

Your best friend quirks a brow at you, prompting you to continue, and you snicker as you rest your head in your hands. “I spoke to a local earlier. They seem to think this place is haunted.”

“Oh?” you friend asks you from across the table. “What brought them to that conclusion? Nothing weird has happened since we got here.”

“Well, I found out a little bit about the people who lived in the house previously.” You tell her, pointing upwards. “They had four kids, which is why all the rooms upstairs look like they belong to young children, but the eldest died in some sort of forest fire.” You frown slightly as the image of the white-haired boy crosses your mind. “I’m staying in his old room.”

“That’s fucked up.” Your other friend mutters, hugging her legs close to herself. “So what? He’s like… haunting the place or something?”

“I’m not sure.” You admit. “The person I spoke to didn’t say that specifically. Apparently, some weird things started happening after he died, and it drove the mom crazy or something to that effect. They moved out not long after that, but I don’t fully believe the place is haunted. It sounds like there was a lot of personal issues with the family, and that might have had something to do with it.”

“You think the website might have disclosed something like that.” Your best friend interjects quietly, pulling out her phone. “That’s… a lot.”

“Apparently it happened over ten years ago, so it wasn’t recent.” You tell her with a frustrated sigh. “What I’m more interested in, is why the listing didn’t have any reviews on it. According to the person I talked to, the original family rents out the house, and has been doing so for a number of years. When I was booking it for us, the website made it seem like this place was brand new – that no one had stayed in it yet. But it sounds like that’s not the case.”

“Maybe it really is haunted.” Your friend grins, kicking you under the table. You’re about to swat her back, before your best friend’s quiet voice stops you.

“I think you guys need to take a look at this.” She tells you softly, beckoning you all over as she points down at her phone screen. She holds it up, and you can see she’s done a quick search of the house by address. You feel your heart sink as you read the first three web articles that come up in the search:

Three Tourists Found Dead In Japanese Home.

Swedish Couple Found Burnt In Japanese Mansion.

Fraternity Party Gone Wrong As Massive Fire Erupts in Backyard—

You can’t bring yourself to read the rest of the internet searches, and to your horror, it just keeps going. Your friends are just as mortified, if the looks on their faces have anything to say about it.

“What the fuck.” You friend breaths as she shoots you an almost accusatory look. “You didn’t know about this?”

“No! Of course not!” you snap back at her. “If I’d known this was H.H. Holmes house of horrors 2.0, I wouldn’t have booked this place!”

“Well, that explains why it’s so cheap.” Your other friend mutters under her breath, but you can’t bring yourself to care, still too in shock over what you’re reading to come up with a response.

“It’s not her fault!” your best friend cuts in, before either of your friends can say anything else. “If houses are on a booking website for anyone to look at, then they should’ve passed some kind of safety inspection beforehand. How this one was able to be listed with this kind of rap sheet is beyond me, but getting angry about it won’t solve anything.” She turns towards you. “I know you’ve already pre-paid for the house, but would you be open to finding another place to stay for the remainder of the trip?”

“Fine by me.” You mutter. “We’re going to have to stay here until something else comes up though. None of us have the funds on-hand to stay more than several days in a hotel.”

“That’s fine. We’ll figure something out.” You best friend soothes, squeezing you hand. “In the meantime, would anyone like to play a game? Getting overly stressed out about the house isn’t going to solve anything.”

“I’m good.” You mutter, standing up from the table. “Actually, I think I’m going to go lie down. Sorry guys.”

Your friends don’t protest as you leave the room, still in a daze from what you discovered about the house. Suddenly, you would’ve much rather preferred if it was haunted, because in actuality, it was so much worse than what you initially thought.

Screw spirits, this place was a modern-day mass murder site.

As you climb the stairs to the second floor, you’re suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of being watched. You glance down the hallway nervously from your perch on the last step, half expecting to see something waiting for you at the end of the corridor, only to be greeted with the sight of an empty walkway. Even with the reassurance that nothing seemed to be upstairs with you, you can’t shake the feeling that your every movement being monitored.

With bated breath, you slowly peek your head into each child-themed room as you silently make your way down the hall towards your room, but to your relief (and almost slight disappointment), you don’t see anything in the rooms aside from your friend’s luggage. Despite the reassurance, you still feel eyes following your every movement.

The feeling only gets worse as you near your room, and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as a sweltering heat suddenly manifests behind you. You don’t know what’s causing it, but any doubts you had about the house possibly being haunted, vanish as you quickly become aware of a presence that wasn’t there before:

There’s something standing behind you. You’re sure of it.

You don’t dare turn around to find out what it is. You fling the sliding door to your room open and slam it shut behind you in one fluid motion without turning around to see what’s behind you. You foolishly thought that you’d feel better once you were out of the hallway, but as soon as you take a step into the room, you’re suddenly aware of how hot the room is.

The still air is sweltering, almost burning – the heat is so intense, it nearly knocks you over as it causes a fresh sheen of sweat to glisten on your brow. You have no idea why the small bedroom is so warm when you know it wasn’t like this when you were in it last. The small thermostat mounted on the far wall only confuses you further, as it shows a cooler temperature then what you’re currently experiencing. At first you think maybe it’s broken, but after playing around with it for a few minutes, you determine that it’s working fine as you dab at your forehead.

Then you feel it again: something is watching you.

Before you can even think to turn around, the glaring blue eyes from the night before flash across your field of vision. You let out a startled yelp before you can stop yourself, as the angry turquoise irises pin you to the spot. Strangely enough, they don’t disappear as quickly as they did the first time, allowing you to get a better look at them.

They have to be the most infuriated set of eyes you’ve ever seen. They’re narrowed in clear distrust, and heavily lidded. The skin under them looks darkened and gnarled, as if it’s been charred, and yet, you can’t help but think they’re the most stunning shade of blue you’ve ever seen.

For some reason, you think you’ve seen them somewhere before.

Almost as if they can sense your shift in thought, the eyes blink, and then they’re gone, leaving you reeling in shock. This time, you know you’re not hallucinating. What you experienced was very much real.

At this point you’re so bewildered, you throw caution to the wind and scour the room, looking for the eyes again. You check under the bed, and in the closet, you even open up the window and stick your head outside to see if someone is out there, but your search turns up nothing, leaving you stumped. All the while, the feeling of being watched becomes increasingly worse, to the point you feel like you’re going to throw up if you stay in the bedroom one second longer.

The room is so suffocating, you end up changing in the bathroom next to the master bedroom, and the feeling is only marginally better as you do your nightly routine. By the time you finish, you’re dreading going back into the bedroom, afraid of what might be waiting for you inside. Your friends are still downstairs, and you contemplate grabbing one of them to help you sweep the room one last time before you try and go to sleep, but you don’t want to bother them, and you have the feeling that they don’t want to talk to you right now anyways.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you steel your nerves and force the door open again, half expecting to see someone standing directly on the other side of the door, but the room is void of any other human life aside from you.

The temperature has gone back down to normal; you note, as you close the door behind you again, and to your relief, you no longer feel like something is watching you. The room is exactly how it was when you woke up this morning, with no indicators that something was ever wrong in the first place.

I must be losing my mind. You think to yourself as you slowly sink back down onto your makeshift bed on the floor, but a small part of you doesn’t think that you are. You know for a fact something was behind you in the hallway. You’re not sure what it was, but you know something was there.

And you know that you weren’t imagining those eyes either.

As you lay on the pillows and wait for sleep to take you under, you glance at the dark butsudan in the corner. You don’t know what possesses you to say it, but you sigh under your breath as you turn over onto your side so you’re facing the dark cabinet.

“Good night Touya.”

You’re certainly not expecting a response, but you realize with a jolt how quiet the room has suddenly become. You can’t even hear the dull hum of the air conditioner anymore as you slowly look around the dark expanse of the room.

You re-direct your attention to the dark cabinet, when realization suddenly hits you full force. You slowly peel off your blanket and make your way towards the doors. Opening them gently, you’re greeted with the familiar sight of the photograph of the snowy-haired child, frozen forever in time.

You kneel down until you’re eye-level with the picture of the boy. Your eyes trace over his delicate features, taking in the fullness of his cheeks and the soft looking texture of his hair, but you’re hyper-focused on his eyes, more specifically, the particular shade of them. Sure enough, they’re the same piercing blue as the ones from earlier.

“What the fuck?” you breathe, as you lean in for a closer look. “What the hell is going on here—”

“More then you know.”

Your eyes widen impossibly at the sound of the raspy voice behind you. Before you can even think to scream for help, the feeling of immense fatigue washes over you like a tidal wave, rendering you senseless.

You feel your eyes grow heavy, and roll back against your will no matter how hard you struggle to keep them open. You feel yourself pitch back into unfamiliar arms, and the last thing you remember seeing before you pass out completely, is the metal glint of staples and the same burning eyes staring back down at you from the picture of the small boy.

-----

Dabi catches you before you can hit the floor.

He doesn’t bother concealing himself as he watches the consciousness leave your eyes before they dip closed, knowing that you saw him, or at least, what’s left of him.

He scoops you up and deposits you on his old bed, staring down at you for a moment longer then necessary, before leaving you alone to sleep off his influence.

He allows himself to fade out before reappearing in the gardens just outside the living room, where he can hear your friends talking amongst themselves without a care in the world – completely oblivious to his presence.

He snorts to himself. He’d fix that soon. Playtime was over, and he was getting bored.

A bored Dabi was a vicious one.

He’d wait until they went to bed before making himself known. It would give him time to figure out what he wanted to do with you in the meantime.

It was a little ridiculous, honestly. Normally he had no qualms about killing anyone who stepped foot in his house – the long list of people who he’d killed in and around the property was a testament to that – but he had some reservations with you.

You, the first person who had managed to capture his attention since he had become what he is now.

He’s not sure what exactly drew him to you. Maybe it was your kind disposition, maybe it was because he didn’t find you as annoying or clueless as your idiotic friends, or maybe it was because out of all of the people who had come through the house, you were the only one who had bothered to show some shred of respect to his burial shrine, or even bother to learn his past name. Regardless, he could say with certainty that ever since he turned into this, he had never taken in interest in someone as much as he had you.

He’s still not even sure what he is exactly. He’s not dead, though his outward appearance might suggest otherwise. His body – as damaged as it is – is still very much solid, and he still ages, though seemingly at a slower rate than before. He’s not the same thirteen-year-old boy as he was when he was incinerated. He’s older now, roughly in his mid to late twenties, just like he would’ve been if he were still alive. A demon is more accurate term to describe what he is; since he’s able to exist in the physical world, and incinerate his victims, turning them into little more than piles of ash. Ironic, the powers he came back with where the same ones that killed him in the first place.

Dabi glances down at his arms, taking in the sight of his scorched, mangled skin, held together by what little of his healthy skin remained with surgical staples, before chuckling to himself as he notes his macabre reflection in a passing window.

He didn’t always look like this: a walking corpse with an appetite for destruction and death. Ever since he burned up, this reality has been his life now. But he’s not really living, is he? He’s not dead, but he’s not exactly alive either. He exists somewhere in between both planes of Earth and Hell.

Touya was dead, but Dabi is very much alive, at least, he thinks so. All it took was for his past self to die – turned to ash and scattered into the wind. At least, that’s what his family thinks happened to him. In actuality, what really happened was far more gruesome. The memory almost makes him smile.

The fire was hot. He remembers that vividly. He hadn’t meant to set Sekoto on fire, he really hadn’t. He’d gone for a walk to escape from his hellish household for a while – The neglect from his father had been getting to him more than normal, so he had gone deep into the forest behind his house to escape for a little while. The air had been dry and the lighter he forgot he had in his pocket had fallen out, igniting the forest around him faster then he could put it out.

He should’ve died. This much he knows, but for some reason, he didn’t. Despite it all, he lived. He’s not exactly sure how much time passed from when the flames completely engulfed him to when he regained consciousness, but what he does know is that when he woke up again, he was this… thing. Half alive, half dead, and full of rage and pure fire.

By the time he’d made it back to the house, it was apparent that quite some time had passed, and his family believed him to be dead. They had moved on without him, but the most horrifying realization of all was even though he was gone, nothing had changed in his absence.

His father was still a bastard, and his mother and siblings were still sheep as far as he was concerned.

And that simply wouldn’t do.

From then on, he terrorized the house. At first, he was content to simply scare his family; standing in the corners of his sibling’s rooms while they tried to sleep, purposely letting them see him in all of his nightmarish glory, to making things go bump in the night to keep his parents always on edge, never letting them sleep or know a moments peace.

When his father demanded they ignore what was happening (despite the terrified claims of his siblings), he kicked it up a notch.

He started set things on fire randomly, taking sick delight in the panicked screams of his mother and siblings, and the look of dread on his father’s face. He’d destroy the house while his family was out, carving twisted messages on the walls to let them know he was there, cackling as their collective will to try and ignore what was happening began to waver. Finally, when that got boring: he started physically lashing out.

That they couldn’t ignore.

He often targeted his youngest brother, Shoto. Not only because he was his father’s favourite (and his replacement), but because he often made it too easy for him.

When he had gouged deep, red lines into his brother’s back for the umpteenth time, it had sent his mother over the edge. She broke – either from the stress caused by his father and her terrified children, or the lack of sleep – and had scalded Shoto’s face, burning him to the point it couldn’t be hidden, much to his glee.

She was carted off to an institution shortly afterwards, and his father had packed up his siblings and left the house not long after that, never to return.

The house had sat vacant for a while, leaving him to roam about its halls freely, and even though people occasionally came to see the mansion from time to time with the intention of buying it, they never ended up staying long, as he’d always find a way to chase them off, further souring the manor’s reputation.

For a long time, no one had come to the house, and he had eventually drifted off to sleep in the welcoming darkness, only to be awoken again after an uncertain amount of time by random strangers in his house. From them, he discovered when his father hadn’t been able to sell the estate due to its less than stellar reputation, he had decided to rent it out as a guest house in an attempt to bury the truth about what happened all those years ago.

The thought infuriated him.

His father might have been content to try and forget about him, but Dabi was more spiteful then Touya had ever been. Dabi always remembered and never forgave.

If he couldn’t take his rage out directly on his father… then the cannon folder he sent willingly into the house would have to do.

From then on, he made it his personal mission to burn everything and everyone who set foot in the house, if only so word could get back to his father to let him know that he was still here and still pissed.

He’s not sure how the old man does it, but every time he ends up killing someone who’s stupid enough to rent out the house despite its reputation, his father is somehow able to cover it up. He’s killed well over thirty people at this point (though he stopped counting after thirty-two), and yet they still keep coming – though less frequently than before.

Perhaps it’s his old man’s way of atoning: by sending unaware people into the house so he can take his wrath out on them instead of him. There’s no way his father doesn’t know it’s him by now. He simply doesn’t want to face the monster he created, and is more then content to let other people suffer in his place instead. He always was a coward like that.

His good for nothing father… the reason he’s like this in the first place—

Dabi hisses irritably to himself. Best not to think about him. It only made him even more homicidal than he already was.

He allows himself to turn to smoke once more, and mist back into the house so he can keep a closer eye on your friends. He watches as they head off to bed, stalking them from the shadows as they settle down in his siblings’ old rooms for the night, but there would be no sleeping for them tonight, he would make sure of that.

Tonight, he wanted to have a little fun – to shatter the fragile illusion of peace they had created.

Once he’s sure that your friends are mostly asleep, he slithers into the room of the friend who had been so rude to you earlier. He looms over her prone from with a sick grin plastered across his face.

Time to let them know they weren’t alone in the house as they thought.

-----

You wake to the sound of blood-curdling screams echoing from down the hall.

It takes your sleep-addled brain a moment to realize that it’s coming from the room your friend claimed as her own, but the moment you do, you’re up and all but running down the hall to the room as her terrified screams get louder and louder.

You call out her name desperately as you stumble into the dark room, flicking on the light as your tired eyes find her thrashing form hopelessly tangled in the sheets on the twin sized mattress. You rip the blankets off of her, calling her name, only to realize her eyes are still tightly shut, but her hands are grabbing at her back, as if she’s in pain.

You shake her awake violently and her eyes fly open just as your other friends rush into the room behind you. Your friend’s mouth twists open into another scream as she grasps at her back, wailing as she begins to sob unconsolably.

“The man! The man! Did you see him?” She wails as she writhes on the mattress, clawing at the back of her sleep shirt.

“What man? What are you talking about?” You ask her as you desperately try to calm her down while she continues to sob.

“How can you not see him?” she cries unconsolably. “He was there, he was right there!” she points to the spot where you’re currently kneeling, still in tears. You look around the small space, but aside from you and your friends, there’s no one else in the room with you. You shoot a bewildered look at your friends who are still crowding the door frame, and they return the look.

“Sweetheart, there’s no one else here.” Your best friend tries to sooth her as she slowly makes her way over to where you’re sitting, and kneels down beside you at the foot of the bed. “You just had a nightmare, that’s all.”

“No, he was real, he was there, I saw him!” your friend bursts into a fresh wave of tears as she curls into a ball. “He was there, just standing over me with that horrible grin on his face. Oh god, his face!”

“What did he look like?” you press. “No one else has come in or out of the house aside from us! We would’ve noticed if someone else was here!” The words sound hollow, even to you. You can’t help but think of the rough voice you heard earlier before you passed out, and for some reason the unsettling blue eyes from the last two days haunt your thoughts.

Your fears are only confirmed as your friend manages to choke out: “He had burns all over his face and arms… and his eyes… they were so blue… so, so blue.”

You’re frozen in place, unable to speak, as your friend finally manages to pull her sleep shirt up, exposing her back. “That’s not all he did… he—he clawed me. He clawed my back. It hurts so fucking bad…”

You peer at her back and feel faint as you take in the sight of five angry red lines running from the top of her back, all the way down to the end of her ribs. The cuts are deep, and some of the marks are slowly oozing blood, as your friend continues to cry.

“What the fuck.” You hear your other friend breathe, as she finally makes her way over so she can get a closer look at the marks. “Are… are you sure you didn’t just scratch yourself in your sleep?”

“There’s no way she did this to herself.” You mutter as you touch the worst of the marks, feeling your friend flinch under your touch, and muttering a quiet apology to her. “They’re too deep to be self-inflicted. She would’ve woken herself up. Something did this to her.”

“What then?” your other friend groans as you retract your hand and pull your still sobbing friend’s shirt back down.

“I don’t know!” you snap. “A fucking ghost from the sounds of it.”

“It was the man… the burned man.” Your friend mumbles as her tears finally begin to slow. “He’s real, he was there, I saw him!”

“Well, whatever he is, he’s not here now.” you mutter, wearily looking around the room. “C’mon. We gotta get you cleaned up. You can sleep with one of us, we’ll bring your stuff with you.”

“I’m not sleeping in your room. Not with that thing in there.” Your friend whimpers as your best friend helps her up slowly.

She means the butsudan. You don’t blame her for that one. It is pretty unsettling in the dark.

“She can sleep with me.” Your best friend offers gently as she helps your friend to stand. She gives you and your other friend a pointed look as she slowly ushers your still crying friend out of the room. “Keep an eye out for anything strange. If what she’s saying is true, then we might not be alone in the house.”

“Yeah, sure.” Your friend mutters sullenly beside you as both girls leave the room to go back to your best friend’s room. As soon as they’re out of sight she gives you a pointed look. “Still think this place isn’t haunted?”

“I don’t know.” You breathe quietly, as you look around the room one last time. “I seriously don’t know.”

None of you end up sleeping through the night.

The incident with your friend set you all on edge, the slightest sounds in the house would wake you up in a panic, looking around for some unseen intruder – only to see nothing, but still feel like there were eyes watching you from somewhere, though you couldn’t pin point where from.

Your friends didn’t fair much better either, and by the time the first rays of morning sun peaked through the cracks in the blinds, you were already up and so were they.

Breakfast is a quiet affaire. None of you slept much after your friend was attacked, and the bags residing under all of your eyes are telling. Your friend barely says two words the whole time, absentmindedly stirring her tea while lightly touching her back. Your best friend had done her best to clean up the wounds and bandage it, but you could tell it was still bothering her.

You don’t even know what to say to her. You don’t know what to say to any of your friends. Do you tell them about what’s been happening to you the last several days? Do you stay silent in order not to worry them any further? You don’t know what to do.

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything, because your best friend breaks the silence.

“I think we need to discuss what happened last night.” She says quietly but firmly. She gestures to your still silent friend. “Something attacked her last night. I don’t know what exactly, but I don’t think this place is safe to stay in anymore. We were deceived and lied to, and I think it’s best if we find another place to spend the rest of our trip.”

“I agree. You other friend mutters next to you. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I kept hearing you guys whispering and playing on your phones all night long.”

Your brows furrow as you turn to her. “I wasn’t on my phone, and I sure as hell wasn’t whispering to anyone last night, I was by myself.”

She glances back at you, almost as if she doesn’t believe you, before she sends a questioning look at your best friend who also shakes her head, gesturing between her and you friend who has yet to say a word. “We weren’t on our phones either. We were cuddling the whole night, but we weren’t talking.”

“Are you sure?” you friend presses harshly. “I kept hearing things last night. It didn’t really sound like any of you, but it was really distorted and muffled so I couldn’t be sure. I thought you playing on your phones or something.”

“After what happened, no. I wanted to be as alert as possible.” You tell her sincerely. “I don’t think any of us slept after that.”

“What the hell…” you friend mutters, rubbing at her temples. “I definitely heard voices last night. I don’t know what they were saying, but they didn’t seem happy—“

A sudden sound of shattering glass from upstairs stops what she was saying, causing all four of you to stop and look at each other with wide eyes. Your friend who was clawed suddenly bursts into tears, and hugs her knees to her chest. “Fuck this, I don’t like it here! I wanna leave!”

“We will!” you assure her as you slowly get up from your chair. “Screw this place. We’ll stay in a hotel if we have to, and then we can figure something else out from there.”

“Where are you going?” you best friend asks as you slowly make your way towards the stairs.

“We have to get our things. We can’t just ditch everything here; our passports are upstairs.” You try to reason with her as she follows you to the base of the stairs. “You three wait down here, I’ll go see what that sound was and I’ll get our things together.”

Your best friend looks like she’s about to offer to come with you, but you shake your head before she can, and purposely lower your voice as she comes closer to you.

“I think it’s better if you stay down here and keep them calm.” You murmur to her as you quietly admit; “Some weird things have been happening to me since we came here too, but I haven’t been physically attacked. It’s probably better if only one of us goes. If I need you. I’ll call.”

Your best friend opens her mouth like she’s going to argue with you, but the look you give her makes her relent. She sighs. “I’ll give you five minutes to grab the important stuff, then we gotta go. I don’t like the feeling I’m getting from this place now… it’s… oppressive.”

You know what she means, but you don’t comment on it. Instead, you slowly make your way up the wooden steps and onto the second floor.

It’s eerily silent. Too quiet for it to be considered normal, especially after hearing something breaking. Despite how still the upstairs floor appears to be, the air is charged, almost electric with how much energy is coursing through the air around you. Your best friend was right: it is oppressive up here, more so now than before, and you don’t like the shift in energy.

Holding your breath, you creep through the hallway towards the bathroom, the only place you can think of that has glass in it. You don’t stop to peer into each of the bedrooms – too scared of what you might be staring back at you – until you’re finally in front of the bathroom door. You push it open gingerly, only to gasp at what awaits you inside.

The large mirror that was previously mounted above the vanity is cracked beyond repair. Large pieces of glass have fallen into the sink, while others are scattered around the counter or on the floor near it. It almost looks like someone punched the glass by how it’s shattered, but you don’t see how that’s possible.

Forgetting your pervious hesitation, you make your way into the bathroom to investigate the damage. You squat down and pick up a large piece of glass near you as you hold it up to your face, and that’s when you see it…

No, not it. Him.

Towering behind you is a man. He’s dressed in tattered black clothing from head to toe, save for an ash-stained white t-shirt. His inky black spikes give him the impression of being covered in soot, or having freshly walked out of some dark abyss, but what stands out most to you about his startling appearance, are the scars.

He’s covered in gnarled, wine-tainted skin, from under his eyes, to his lower jaw, and down his neck from what you’re able to see peeking out from underneath his clothes. The damaged skin is angry and inflamed, held onto what remains of his pale, healthy skin by jarring surgical staples. The silver rings look like they were harshly dug into his mottled skin in a futile attempt to keep him together, and you can’t help but wonder if they hurt him, seeing how many he has decorating his patchwork skin.

You gasp as you whip yourself around on your hunches, tossing the broken piece of mirror away from you in your panic, as you scoot backwards until your back hits the opposite wall. Bits of stray glass dig into your palms but you don’t dare take your eyes off the stranger.

He grins wickedly at your terror – showcasing white teeth too sharp to be considered normal – as your eyes slowly make their way up his body to rest on his. Your breath hitches as you find yourself staring up into electric blue eyes – the very same ones that had been haunting you since you arrived.

You open your mouth to scream – whether for help, or to warn your friends of the man – before the disturbing smile slips off the man’s face momentarily as he growls at you, “Quiet.”

You feel lightheaded as you hear him speak for the first time. You recognize his voice too. It was the same voice from before you suddenly passed out yesterday. Just how long had he been in the house with you and your friends? Who was he?

Despite your mounting panic, you nod slowly, not wanting to piss the strange man off further, and he rewards you with a small nod, the unnerving smile returning to his face as he stares you down.

He holds a finger up to his two-toned lips. “Shh.” He tells you through a grin. “Not a sound, or I’ll burn this fucking house to the ground with you and your friends in it.”

You shake your head frantically, torn between wanting to beg him to spare your friends and you, but not wanting him to act on his promise. Once he’s content you’re not going to scream, he straightens up slightly and takes a slow step towards you, his massive black combat boots crunching the glass underneath it ominously, until he’s directly in front of your trembling form.

He bends down so you’re eye-level with each other and reaches down with one freakishly warm hand, tilting your chin up so you’re looking him directly in his blazing azure irises. “Do you know who I am?”

You shake your head as much as you can without him digging his fingers into your skin.

He snorts. “Figures. Why don’t you take a closer look? You’ve seen me before.”

You have no idea what he means, but you hesitantly looking up into his face again. You scan it closely, all the while the man doesn’t remove his fingers from under your chin, keeping your head in place as he allows you to examine him. Now that you have a closer look at him, you can see three studs on one side of his nose and several other cartilage piercings lining his burnt ears, as well as the staples holding the scorched skin under his eyes together and the burns lining his lower jaw.

The longer you gaze at him, the more you start to realize that he’s right, you have seen him before. He’s older now, his hair is onyx instead of white, and his features have changed drastically, but his eyes… his eyes haven’t changed from the old photo of him in his shrine—

“Touya.” You breath, causing a smirk to grace the man’s scarred lips.

“There you go.” He rumbles, tapping your cheek once before straightening back up, finally releasing you from his scorching grip.

“How?” you whisper, as you reach up to touch your skin., still feeling the searing imprints of where his fingers were on you. “You… you’re dead… you died—”

“No.” the scarred man shakes his head. “Touya died, but Dabi is still very much alive.”

The bathroom suddenly heats up all around you like a sauna, making you flinch at the sudden change in temperature. You peer at him, taking in his deranged appearance. “You’re not human… are you?”

Dabi only grins wider. “No.”

“Then what are you?” you whisper, dreading the answer, but needing to know.

The raven-haired man’s smile pulls at the staples near his mouth. He opens his mouth to answer you, only to be interrupted by the sounds of frantic pounding on the bathroom door.

“Are you in there?” you hear you best friend call out from the other side of the door. “You’re taking way too long! What are you doing?”

“No! Don’t come in! He’s in here” you scream before realizing your mistake. You slap your hand over your mouth, eyes like saucers, as a threatening snarl rips its way out of Touya—no, Dabi’s throat, as he turns to face the door.

“What are you talking about? Who’s in there?” your best friend yells back. You watch helplessly as the doorknob shakes. “Unlock the door!”

Dabi watches the doorknob rattle some more, before casting a careless look over his shoulder at you. “Your friends are pretty annoying.” He rasps, eyes suddenly cold as ice. “I think I’ve tolerated them enough. You’re lucky I view you differently. Otherwise, you’d end up the same as what they’re going to be.”

“Stop it! What do you mean? What are you going to do to them?” You sob, completely frozen in your terror, but to your horror he only smirks as one of his scarred hands suddenly erupts into bright blue flames.

Your tears dry in your eyes as you watch the azure flames lick up his flesh and tattered clothing. The cries of your best friend, and the pounding on the door fade away into background noise as your brain struggles to make sense of what you’re seeing.

“You wanna know what I am?” Dabi rumbles, eyes glinting meanly as he takes in your shaking form. “Here’s your chance.”

“No don’t hurt them!” you wail, as you bolt to your feet. You leap towards him in a desperate attempt to stop him, only to collide into the sink. You look around the small bathroom frantically, but the man—no, the demon is gone. You don’t get to ponder how that’s possible, before you hear a scream from other side of the door. You instantly recognize the cry belonging to your best friend, and you feel your blood turn to ice in your veins at her panicked screams because she sounds absolutely terrified.

You fling yourself towards the door and grasp the handle, jiggling it frantically, before you realize you’re locked in the bathroom from the outside. You pound on the bathroom door, calling out for your best friend to run, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of roaring flames from outside of the door. You feel the wood heat up to insane levels under your palms, and it takes you a moment to realize you can’t hear your best friend outside the door any more.

You quickly devolve into hysterical sobs, sinking to the bathroom floor, as you slow, methodical foot-steps walk past the door and down the stairs. You swear you hear the faint screams of your two other friends’ downstairs, but they fall silent all too soon as well.

You don’t know how long you’re stuck in the bathroom for, but eventually, you hear a click from the bathroom handle, signaling that the door had somehow unlocked itself. You slowly push yourself to your feet and shakily open the door, only to let out a blood-curling scream at the sight that awaits you out in the hall.

The hallway is a mess. The walls are blackened, and look like they’ve been ravaged by fire. The air is thick and smoky, making you gag on the ash that floats through the air like gray snow, but the true horror is what lies just outside the bathroom door.

There is a corpse a foot away from the bathroom and you already know it’s your best friend as you take in what’s left of her. She’s burnt so badly that you can barely make out any distinguishable features, much to your horror, but you know it’s her. You rip your eyes away from her as you reach violently – you can’t bring yourself to look at her any longer otherwise you’ll lose what little of your sanity remains. For some reason you suddenly remember what she told you about the other people who’d stayed in the house before you and your friends had arrived – how they had met violent, fiery ends themselves – and you know she befell the same fate as them.

You hadn’t understood how it had been possible at the time. Now you understood all too well.

You don’t even have time to properly morn her, before it occurs to you that you left your other friends’ downstairs, and you don’t know where they are. You choke broken apologies to your dear friend as you stagger away from her, knowing there isn’t anything you can do for her now, and force your legs to descend the stairs, dreading what awaits you on the lower level of the house.

The downstairs hasn’t fared much better. The air is stagnant and a thick haze of smoke rolls overhead, followed by the potent smell of burnt flesh. The smell gets worse the closer you come to the kitchen, and a fresh wave of tears stings your eyes as you peer overtop of the counter, only to come face to face with two other freshly charred corpses on the other side of it. Just like that, any hope you had of your other friends making it out of the house are shattered, and you know that your friends are no more.

Your legs give out, and you hit the refrigerator hard as you crumple onto the floor. You whimper and shake as you sob into your palms, barely able to process what the hell happened to your friends. The terrifying thing is, you know what happened – or rather – who happened, and you don’t know what he is or where he is, and that thought petrifies you.

Almost as if he can sense your thoughts; the air around you heats up to concerning levels, and you know the scarred man is standing directly in front of you. You don’t bother looking up, keeping your face buried in your hands as you sob. You don’t see much of a point facing him, you already know what he’s going to do to you. You wait for the searing blue flames he’d shown you in the bathroom to tear you apart, much like it did your friends, but blistering heat never comes.

Instead, you hear the man—Touya, Dabi—you’re not particularly sure what to call him now – huff, before two heated hands slide under your arms and pull you into a standing position much to your protest. You try and push him away, but he only tightens his grip on you as you try and bat at him through your tears.

“You—you killed them.” you sob as you try and dislodge his hold on you. “Why? Why Touya? What did they ever do to you?”

“They were irritating me. They had to go.” The dark-haired man states plainly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Surely you didn’t think that your friend was exaggerating when she showed you my house’s history. I don’t like unwelcome guests. Especially annoying ones.”

“Oh god you killed all those people.” You cry as your mind flashes back to the extensive history your best friend had shown you of the horrid deaths that had occurred on and around the property. You steel your nerves best you can before you dare to ask your next question: “So, you’re going to do the same to me aren’t you?”

Dabi falls silent at your question, and you feel his hold on you shift slightly as his thumbs rub circles onto your arms in what you assume is a feeble attempt at comfort. “No.”

“No?” you echo incredulously through your tears. “What do you mean, no? You had no problems murdering my friends. What makes me any different?”

“I don’t know.” Dabi hums and you see he wears a thoughtful expression on his scarred face as e takes you in. “I don’t know what makes you different from the rest, but you are.”

You don’t bother hiding the shudder that makes it’s way up your spine at his choice of words. You don’t like what he’s implying, and your stomach twists itself into knots when he utters his next words:

“It’s decided. I’m going to keep you. You’re mine.”

You shake your head frantically. “No.”

Dabi smirks meanly. “You don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t belong to you. I’m not going anywhere with you.” You resume your desperate attempt to get out of his bruising hold on you. “Let go of me right now.”

“I don’t think so.” Dabi hisses, smoke pouring out of his mouth, halting your struggle. Your eyes widen impossibly, and the unshed tears in your eyes dry, as you watch the man in front of you start to change before your very eyes.

His haunting blue eyes grow even brighter, and you watch with horror as the part of his chest that isn’t covered by his ash-stained shirt starts to glow a frightening blue – almost as if he’s being lit up from inside his body like some sort of demonic jack-o-lantern. You can visibly see heat-waves vibrate the air around you, as his grip on you becomes white hot, to the point that you can feel your skin of your arms being burned into the shape of his hands. Smoke hisses out of the seams in his face as the pyromaniac pins you to the wall behind you, and suddenly all you see is white.

For a horrible second you think you’ve died – incinerated to nothing but ash – until you blink and realize the dark figure before you is no more. Instead, you find yourself staring at a white-haired man, dressed in a pale, flowing robe, which you faintly recognize as a traditional burial shroud.

For a second, you allow yourself to forget about the atrocities he’s committed. For a brief moment, he is simply Touya again; a small boy who lived and died all too soon. You don’t know how or why he came back as the creature that stands before you, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Touya is dead. All that remains is a damaged husk who wears what’s left of his face.

“What the hell?” you gasp as Dabi leans in close to you, grinning manically as he allows you to get a good look at him. It’s only then that you realize the burns on his face have somehow gotten worse, as well as the ones that mar the visible parts of his body from what you can see under his clothes.

“Do ya get it now?” he rasps, as his eyes adopt a hooded look. “I have powers far beyond what you can imagine. You can’t hope to escape from me, so you might as well accept it and submit to me willingly.”

“I don’t—” whatever you were about to say is cut off as the demon roughly smashes his lips onto yours, effectively silencing you, as he pulls you in.

You’re so disorientated all you can do is let him kiss you. The smell of sulfur that persistently clings to him invades your nose and makes you light-headed. You almost loose your fading grasp of what little remains of your sanity, until the faint smell of burnt meat brings you back to the depressing reality of your situation.

Your friends are dead. Killed by this demon’s wrathful flames. You can’t let him do the same to you. You have to get out of here.

Spurred by pure adrenaline, you kiss him back. You feel Dabi reflexively stiffen at your sudden eagerness, before he lets out a pleased nose at the action. His grip lessens on your arms, and you take your chance.

You wrench your arms out of his abnormally warm hands and shove him back from you. Dabi grunts and his eyes narrow dangerously at you as he registers what happened.

“Don’t you dare—” he starts, but you don’t let him finish his sentence. You bolt to the nearest exit which happens to be the side door that leads out into the backyard. You throw it open and hit the ground running, making a beeline towards the back of the property where the beginning of Sekoto forest starts. You figure if you can get to the woods, you’ll be able to hide and eventually find your way to the surrounding town so you can get help. To your horror, the outside world is pitch black, signaling night has fallen. Just how much time had passed since you’d first encountered the demon--?

A rumbling sound followed by an intense blast of heat and the deafening roar of fire has you turning back towards the mansion, only to scream in horror as you watch it erupt into an inferno of bright blue flames.

You fall backwards just on the edge of Sekoto forest as you watch as the manor is consumed by the blaze, only for your eyes to widen in pure fear as a figure emerges from the flames.

Dabi strolls out of the fire unscathed as if he’s taking a leisurely stroll somewhere, and not walking out of hell itself. His fiery blue irises find your frightened ones, and a slow grin spreads itself across his two-toned lips.

“That was dumb.” He admonishes you. “Do you really think you can escape from me? Just give up now and save yourself the trouble.”

You push yourself back up from off the ground. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you. If you want to take me, you’ll have to kill me first.”

His grin flickers slightly, and an unkind glint enters his eyes as he regards you cooly. “That can be arranged.” He rumbles low in his throat as he stalks towards you, moving faster then you thought possible.

You let out a yelp and book it into the dark woods behind you, running away from the inferno that was once a beautiful home, away from your friends, and away from the demon behind it all.

You hear him laugh once, a curt, sharp noise, as you flee into the dense underbrush.

“Run, little mouse.” He calls after you mockingly. “I will catch you, and once I do, you’re mine.”

You hope he won’t make good on that promise.

-----

Which brings you back to the predicament you currently find yourself in.

You’re still huddled behind the tree, contemplating what to do as you hear Dabi’s raspy voice continue to slowly count down from ten a few feet away from your hiding spot.

At some point you believe he may have set the forest on fire behind him when he entered in an attempt to smoke you out, because the ominous blue glow of his flames seems to be encroaching on your location from all sides, and the smoke in the air is getting progressively thicker, making it harder and harder to breathe.

You have no idea how long you’ve been dodging Dabi in the forest for, but dawn looks no closer to arriving then it did when you first escaped from the house. You don’t bother concealing your sobs as you cry freely, not knowing what to do.

You were trapped. You didn’t see a way out. He had you cornered on all sides, boxing you in.

He had lived up to his promise after all.

You glance up at the canopy of branches above your head, hoping to catch one last look at the stars, but you’re so far into the woods embrace, you can’t see their tiny lights.

You force a watery smile on your lips as you prepare to step out from behind the tree and face the pale haired demon.

At least you’d had a little bit of fun during the first part of your trip. You just wish your friends hadn’t had to die such pointless, painful deaths. They hadn’t deserved that.

You breathe in slowly and take a step out to the side, ready to face Dabi head-on in one last show of defiance, only to realize you don’t hear him counting anymore.

You whip your head around the tree to the spot you’d last heard him, only to discover he’s not there.

Your blood turns to ice in your veins as you recall how quickly he was able to move from one place to another, seemingly vanishing before your eyes, only to reappear in a completely different spot. It’s even more terrifying out in the total darkness of the forest.

The smell of sulfur enters your nose once more, and you turn back around, only to find yourself staring into burning turquoise eyes, surrounded by wine-tinted skin and surgical staples.

You don’t even have time to scream before a searing hand wraps itself around your throat, pinning your back to the tree as you gasp, and claw frantically at the charred skin of his forearm.

“Found you.” Dabi hisses as he leans in, his eyes mocking as he scolds you. “Did you really think you’d be able to escape from me? Sekoto Peak was my playground when I was alive. I know this forest like the back of my hand. You couldn’t possibly hope to escape.”

“G-go to hell.” You sputter out, but he only throws his head back to laugh at your weak insult.

“Been there, done that. Hell doesn’t want me, Doll. They sent me back so I could fuck with my bastard of a father, and the weak, pathetic people he sends to my damn home.”

“So… all those people you killed… and my friends and me.” You wheeze, giving up at trying to dislodge his grip from your throat. What was the point anyways?

Something in his rage filled eyes softens as he regards you quietly. His free hand reaches up to trace one of your cheeks absentmindedly.

“No.” Dabi mutters, almost to himself. “Not you. I don’t know what makes you so different than the others that came before you, but I suppose I have an eternity to figure it out.”

A lone tear rolls down your cheek at his words, and he swipes it away before lessening his grip on your throat slightly so he can lean in to kiss you again.

This time, the kiss isn’t as rough or demanding as the first one It’s not tender, or sweet, but you can tell that for the first time in his life, he’s trying to be gentle. In his own warped way.

When he pulls back, he looks away from you to something behind him. You follow his gaze, and you feel your heart fall into the pit of your stomach as you see a black void materialize itself behind him out of thin air.

You don’t bother asking what it is. You already know.

You start to tremble violently. Dabi spares you an unreadable look as his scorched hand trails down your arm to grasp you hand tightly, his thumb warming circles on the back of your hand.

“You don’t need anyone else.” He tells you as he pulls away from you, not letting go of you hand. “I’ll take care of you from now on. You belong to me, I’ll be the only one you need. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Please don’t do this.” You beg him one more time. Trying to reach out to any remanent of Touya that remained locked away inside of the demon. “You don’t have to do this Touya.”

The white-haired man freezes slightly and spares you a singular glance over his shoulder, and it tells you all you need to know:

Touya is gone. He had been for a long time. All that remains is Dabi, and all he knows how to do is take. There will be no sympathy from him.

“Let’s go home.” He tells you quietly, as he pulls you into the dark void after him.

You regret the day you found that god-forsaken listing.

Breaking News: House Of Horrors Home Burns To The Ground.

Police have deemed blaze suspicious and are still looking for the cause of fire.

Four tourists were staying in the house at the time of arson. All woman in their twenties. So far three bodies have been found and identified. Police are still looking for the fourth woman.

If you have any information about the fire or the whereabouts of the missing woman, please call the non-emergency service number provided below.

215 notes · View notes