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yanderenightmare · 4 months ago

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tomura with hero reader whose quirk he's stolen, rendering them defenseless

Shigaraki Tomura

TW: slight nsfw, implied prev noncon, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome, implied mental break, mental deterioration, disassociation, manipulation, angsty, but also weirdly fluffy? reader is super fragile

gn reader

The chub of your inner thighs is still wet with the act. You rub them together for no other reason than that it feels pleasant. You trace the awful scars on his arm, using his warm chest as a pillow—the sound beating of his heart thumping rhythmically at your ear, a soothing presence.

He balances a red book atop your crown.

He doesn’t seem very interested in reading it—only regarding it with jaded eyes, a meager scoff then and there before turning the page. But still, even though the book didn’t excite him, it bothered you that his attention was elsewhere. It sowed the seeds of doubt and gave root to way too many intrusive thoughts, sprouting out and spreading like weeds throughout your mind, making your chest curl at the possibilities.

“Do you think I'm ugly?” you have to ask. You have to know, why isn’t he looking at you.

He pans away from the page, beady garnet eyes softening from scrutiny to nonplus.

Your question stunted him—nearly made him believe he’d heard you wrong. Why someone like you would ever ask someone like him something like that seemed beyond all reason. It would be the same if a flower asked gravel.

But then again, you’d become a little ditzy as of late. Or maybe you’d been so for a little while already. It’s hard to say—you don’t talk as much as you used to. You no longer scream either, though that had ceased even longer ago.

You continue to delicately run your finger over the tear where his tough skin meets the even tougher purple tissue as though mapping the damage. There’s a frown on your face. No, not a frown—a pout.

He thought for a moment to use it against you like he’d done everything else so far. Lie and say yes, tell you you’re about as ugly as he is—gravel—make you fall even further apart than what you were already. But something compelled him to choose differently.

“I think you're the prettiest thing in the world.”

Your pout is sucked between your teeth as you pick yourself up to peer down at him—eyes round and misty and something more, something strange—dare he say joyed?

You're scaring him.

“Really?” you choke out as if you’d been holding back a lump.

He hasn’t known how to treat you lately. You’ve become too soft to handle poorly—too frail to harass and too willing for him to feel the need to. Earlier, you'd even begged him to fuck harder and deeper—even cum inside. Actually, you hadn't veered away from his touch in a while. More like you've been embracing it.

He'd brushed it off as mere compliance at first, a state of meekness, weakened by being touch-starved, something that perhaps developed into a minor case of Stockholm syndrome.

But the way you're acting now—seems more concerning.

“Yeah,” is all he warrants as an answer. Though, he was curious as to yours as he begs the same question, “What about me?”

A smile graces your face then—there’s a comfort to it, a mild and affectionate one, unexaggerated, honest, as you smoothly swing your leg over his lap.

A look like that has no place on your face, especially when regarding him, and yet he finds himself hoping for more. He lays his book aside as you lean forward and doesn't stop you when you cup his face in both your palms.

“As far as I'm concerned, you’re not just the prettiest boy in the world—you're the only boy in the world.” You say it with a kiss, lips just as soft as the words leaving them. It shocks him, though he accepts and gives it back.

You close your eyes, laying your chest against his—he keeps his open to look at you. Observing and assessing.

You’ve truly become a whole other person altogether. A far cry from the tough hero you once were—the one who’d beat him within an inch of his life and leave him to choke on the blood.

“Will you stay with me today?” you ask against his lips—playing with his hair, looping the curly tresses around your fingers.

There’s a neediness to your voice, a certain desperation, a sadness—something lonely and something that reminds him all too much of himself. He feels both a strong urge to reject and soothe it all at the same time.

“No, I gotta go,” he says despite it. He had business.

You hide your face in his neck and continue with your tracing, now on the scrapes striping his throat where he’s raked his nails time and time again. “When will you come back?” Your tone comes out even sweeter, only a murmur mushed against his skin.

It nearly makes his heart twist. “It’s better I don’t answer that.”

It’s funny. Though the thought had struck him, he didn’t gauge any ill intentions. You could be asking, acting, plotting some escape based on the hours of his absence—yet somehow, with the way you nuzzle into him like that, as though you’re pouring your all-too-candid grief into him, he can't sense any other ulterior motive.

“Last time you left at this hour, you came back all beaten and bruised,” you mutter, now with a hint of bitterness—as if you’re cursing whoever hurt him under your breath.

It’s ironic. He sneers lazily, almost fondly, at the old memory. “You’re the one who used to beat and bruise me, remember?”

He’s truly curious if you do. Or if something’s spirited your past life away and left you like this—no longer an aspiring young hero, but something whose only value is warming his bed at night.

You arise, an appalled look of affront upon your face.

“No, that can’t be right,” you very nearly cry, as if the very thought was killing you. “I would never hurt you—I love you too much.”

Apparently, you don’t remember who you were at all.

“Love me?” he all but croaks. It’s a laughable prospect, and yet he doesn’t even smile. There’s something awful in his gut that prevents him. “Don't be stupid. You can't love me.”

Your face doesn’t drop its grimace, only further tears with forlorn outrage. “Of course, I love you!" you insist. "You’re my whole reason for living...”

You look so despaired—wrecked from his dismissal. The tears well quickly then slip down your face just as fast—and yet it isn’t the same crying as you used to. This time, it’s quiet—in wait or in dread as you beg the question,

“Don't you love me?”

It’s an unexpected one, and it quickly proves to be an existential one—even more so than your unnerving confession. Despite not wanting to, it leaves him to dig through the muck in his head he’d long ignored, down in the dark where he’d tried burying the truth he'd felt oncoming. He'd wanted to deny it, reject it, amend it, simply because it confused him too much to acknowledge—complicated things—changed things he didn’t want or need changing.

He wonders if it’s somehow proof of fate—even though he despises such a concept. That, no matter how much you practice free will, no matter how many knots you make upon the red string, the world will pull and straighten it out, and you’re left to realize you’d brought it all on yourself.

First, he took your quirk, then he took your body—your mind shortly followed—and now it seems he’s managed to take your heart, too.

There’s nothing left of you that isn’t his.

There was a time he’d frolic at the thought of having reduced you to such a pathetic ghost in a shell—back then, he’d do anything to destroy you—he’d surely shatter you into a million little scattered pieces if presented with the chance, make sure you were broken for good.

But that was the old him. Or rather, that was his dream for the old you—the hero he loathed down to his rotten core.

But the pretty misty-eyed thing looking down at him now, aching for his answer, wasn’t that person anymore.

And the truth is, the person you are now scares him more than that hero ever did.

You were… well, you were the person who warms his bed at night, the person who traces his scars and plays with his hair—the person who wraps themselves around him and keeps him from falling apart when he stumbles through the door into the tiny little room he keeps you a prisoner in. You're his.

This time, his heart does twist. He’s never before spoken the words that dance on his tongue, or if he has, they’ve been long forgotten and come out as dust balls as he affirms them now,

“Yes. I love you.”

There’s a flash of hope in your eyes, though it just as quickly diminishes—as if you don’t believe him.

Your lip warbles as you confirm it, “No, you don’t.”

More tears run silently down the tracks on your cheeks, gathering at the tip of your chin before dripping upon his chest—each one like a gunshot through something hollow.

“If you did, you wouldn’t go. You wouldn’t leave me here in this room, all alone.” Your nails curl into your palms where they rest atop him. You bow your head as though you can’t bear to look at him, as if it hurts. The next words come out beneath your breath, “How am I supposed to compete with the whole world?”

You’re making him feel like dying. The continuous twists of his heart feel as if you’re about to tear it right out of his chest.

He sits up and lifts your face. It’s strange, even with his two-finger gloves on. He doesn’t think he’s ever held you like this. Though, suppose it’s been a night of many firsts already. And here comes another,

“As far as I’m concerned, you are my world.”

There you are, the one thing he doesn’t wish to destroy.

Your sore eyes become round, then swell with different tears. There’s a hitch in your breath as you sigh through a shuddering sob, throwing your arms around his neck and clinging to him tightly—your body jostling while you rub your wet face into his neck, holding him close for comfort as if you're scared to ever let go.

He returns the gesture, though somewhat hesitantly, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head to rest against your shoulder.

And then, as he holds you—for the first time ever, fear of actually losing the fight ahead strikes him.

He hadn’t much cared about the outcome before. Either he’d destroy or be destroyed.

This wasn’t as simple. As said earlier, this complicated things.

But then again, it was even more of a reason to go.

“But I still have to leave.”

You part from him—the betrayal in your tone demanding his justification, “Why?”

Suppose, in some ways, this actually made things simpler—as that was a question he had no problem answering.

“‘Cause there are monsters outside…” He rests his forehead upon yours, gazing back into those terribly glassy eyes looking back at him as he speaks to you about your dear old colleagues. “Monsters who want nothing but to take you away from me.”

If only they could see you now, they’d know… you no longer want to leave him.

“So I have to go out there and make sure they have no chance,” he explains, almost like a vow, “You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who says otherwise to keep you that way.”

The way your eyes melt makes him feel all fuzzy. It’s a special type of glee, a victory before the battle even begins—to see you root for him—so deep in love with him that you’ve forgotten you’re celebrating the onset of death to all of your former friends.

They probably wouldn’t be able to take you away from him even if they somehow managed to invade this very room. You’d sooner die than betray him.

And that makes him feel all the more ready for the war ahead.

“So kiss me good luck, and I’ll come right back to you soon.”

♡ SHIGARAKI TOMURA ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

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goldendynastys · 3 months ago

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wonderland (pt. 1) | cs

summary: Being home alone with your pets has always put you on edge, especially at night when you get extremely anxious. You thought you were over it towards the end of your parents’ vacation, but when a random stranger breaks in one night and insists on taking you with him, everything you once knew had begun to change. You knew how your story would end, you just weren’t sure if it was for the better, or the worst.

pairing: choi san x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+, MDNI | yandere, angst, fluff, eventual smut word count: 8.4k warning/tags: yandere, kidnapping, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, obsession, somewhat toxic relationship, fast burn, reader is innocent, angst, arguments between san and reader, lots of fluff, pet names, i think that is it but please let me know if i missed anything (i’m new at this), i hope you enjoy reading! <3

disclaimer: all members of Ateez are faces and name claims for this story. this is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real life scenarios.

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chapter one, always an angel, never a god (next →)

Growing up you always tried your best to stand out. Amongst your classmates, amongst your family. You did everything to make yourself unique, to be better. You wanted to be the best, and you tried so hard to achieve that. But in reality, you knew it was impossible, because there were a lot of people who were simply better than you. And you couldn’t compete with them, it was no use. So, you continued to be yourself, in hopes it would pay off and you would finally be the best at something, no matter what it was.

This notion of wanting to be the best most likely came from your family. It wasn’t anything your parents did per say, it was more your older brother. You loved him to pieces, but it seemed like he always got the most attention and adoration from your parents. You and your family’s lives weren’t normal (even though you hated saying those words, it made you cringe). Most families had lawyers, doctors, or strong business people within their families. Your family? Well, they were the leaders of the most popular biker gangs in town, known as the Sons of Anarchy. Yeah, not a typical job for most families.

Your dad had become the leader after your grandfather had retired, and your brother was next in line to take over once your dad was ready to retire, which was coming sooner than expected. Because of this, your parents focused more on him and making sure he was ready to take this on, as well as applauding him for his hardwork and dedication to the organization. Your parents still loved you and were so proud of you, but it was obvious they cared more for your brother than they did for you. You can take care of yourself just fine, your folks don’t need to worry about you. It’s your brother they gotta pay attention to so he doesn’t fuck all of this up, a member of the gang once told you when you were fourteen years old.

You assumed it was in that moment, you realized you had to stand out if you wanted your parents proud of you. You had to defy their expectations, work hard and try to be the best in whatever areas you could be.

And you did exactly that for the next nine years. You excelled in school, getting the highest grades on all of your assignments, exams, and classes. You found a small passion for tennis and excelled in that as well, even getting a scholarship for college that would cover both your tuition and dorm. When you got to college, you continued these same patterns (high grades on everything, being a great tennis player), and also got accepted to a master’s program for an additional year at no cost.

But even with all of this effort, it didn’t seem to pay off. They were proud of your accomplishments, but it was still evident that they favored your brother and focused on getting him ready to become a leader of their gang. It broke your heart that after all of this time and hardwork, they were still focused on your brother, but from another perspective, it paid off in many ways. You got high academic honors, multiple awards for tennis, and into a great master’s program. You gave yourself these amazing opportunities, opportunities that were going to help shape your future and make it bright.

Instead of letting it consume you, you let it fuel you as motivation to keep going. Someday, someone would be proud of everything you’ve done, put you first and appreciate everything about you. You were looking forward to that day, to be a goddess amongst someone instead of just being a pretty angel like everyone else.

Other than your family’s biker gang and your extracurriculars, you had lived a quiet life for as long as you could remember. Some of it was by choice, since you loved staying in bed and watching movies, but also because you were a lonely person. You had friends, friends that you adored of course, but they were always busy and never reached out to see if you wanted to go out. So, since you couldn’t go out by yourself (unless you wanted to be murdered), you were forced to stay inside.

There were days where you hated it, resenting your life and criticizing yourself so harshly for staying in. You often wondered if you would regret it later on, worried that you weren’t living your life to the fullest. But you knew that wasn’t true, there were plenty of occasions where you went out, whether that was with your family or on vacation. You realized those were more special, as opposed to going out every weekend. That gave you some peace and closure, but those negative thoughts always came back to haunt you, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

But this weekend was different. Well, these past two weekends, actually. Your parents and your older brother were going on vacation. A trip to the mountains, to be exact. They said it was for business, given the other biker branches of Sons of Anarchy operating in the country and how they needed help from time to time. When you heard your parents and brother were going for work but also taking time for themselves to relax, it made your heart happy knowing they were getting some sort of a break. Despite your strange relationship, you still loved them and wanted them to rest and live their lives.

While they were away, you were asked to watch over the house and your pets, a dog named Spuds and a cat named Pumpkin. They required minimal care, since they were on the older side, but Spuds needed a little more attention than Pumpkin. You had to make his dinner, take him on walks and out to do his business, and sleep with him at night so he wouldn't get lonely (your dad and mom did all of this when they were home). All Pumpkin needed was to be fed once a day and have her litter box changed every couple days (you already fed her, but your dad was the one to change her litter box when he was home). So, your tasks for the pets weren’t hard to do, per se, it just prevented you from doing certain things for the week.

And you didn’t mind at all. You loved your pets and would do anything for them, but you also loved your parents and would do anything for them, too. They worked extremely hard and have given you and your brother a great life, so it was the least you could do. You often felt bad that you couldn’t pay them back in monetary ways to show how much you appreciate everything they did for you, but if there was anything they needed help with or wanted you to complete for them, you would do it in a heartbeat.

You wanted to give your family this, a week away from the chaos that was their life where they didn’t have to worry about anything. It made your heart happy knowing they were going on this trip. The only thing that seemed to bother you, however, was the nighttime and falling asleep.

Like the chronic overthinker you were, you were worried that someone was going to break into your house and hurt you. You put on the television and watched Bob’s Burgers in order to help you fall asleep and make sure the house wasn’t too quiet. Still, the little creaks and sounds you heard at night made your heart jump, worried that something bad was going to happen.

Nothing ever did, however. You were able to fall asleep and wake up in the early morning to everything the way that it was the day before. You were just hyper aware of everything and wanted to make sure everything was okay. So while your thoughts were too extreme and never manifested into anything bad, you kept telling yourself that you were okay and that nothing would happen.

You had almost gotten used to it towards the end of their vacation. You still played Bob's Burgers to help you fall asleep and add noise, of course, but you were much calmer than you were earlier in the week. In fact, you were getting excited to see your family again and for everything to go back to normal. As much as you loved having the house to yourself and sleeping next to your dog every night, you were ready to not be in charge anymore and just do whatever the hell you wanted.

The day had gone by as usual; you decided to get some groceries after your dad texted you that he and your brother needed stuff from the store. You went out in the early afternoon, going on a walk with Spuds earlier to get your steps and the dog’s exercise in for the day. You got yourself some treats while you were out that you could enjoy tonight, after you ordered in from your favorite restaurant. Additionally, you had enough money to treat yourself to some books and albums you wanted (thank God you had gotten paid a few days ago), and wanted to reward yourself for taking such good care of your pets and house for the week. The sun was out and the air was warm, making it a perfect day in your book.

After having your dinner and sweet treats, you found yourself growing tired and decided to go to sleep. You were happy it was the weekend and you didn’t have to worry about waking up early for work the next day. As usual, you put on Bob’s Burgers and fell asleep around eleven-thirty, a sense of happiness within you knowing your parents and brother would be home early tomorrow.

But you were awoken in the middle of the night to Spuds barking, which was something he never did. The TV had shut off due to the timer you put it on before you fell asleep, so it couldn’t have been another dog barking on the program you were watching. No, this was something else. Something that made your stomach drop with fear.

You immediately grabbed your phone and pressed your back against the door. Spuds wanted to go out and see who was downstairs, but you tried to calm him down. “Shh! Be quiet, someone’s here and I need you to stop barking,” you whispered in hopes Spuds would listen and actually stop (he did after you gave him a small treat).

You didn’t hesitate to call the police, your gut telling you this was an emergency and you desperately needed help. Once you dialed the number, however, you noticed your phone just kept ringing, no one was answering. You noticed that your phone wasn’t connected to the wi-fi, and your connection was extremely low. Odd. That never happened; even when the wi-fi was down, you were able to use the Internet and call people just fine. Why wasn’t it working now? Were the power lines destroyed by a large tree? It made no sense, but you kept calling in hopes that it would go through.

A loud sound could be heard downstairs. Someone must’ve broken down the doors, as you could hear muffled voices stepping over the damage they did and walking into your living room. Your chest tightened and you wanted to sob, but you had to remain quiet. You couldn’t let whoever was in your house know that you were here. That way, they would leave quicker and leave you alone. You placed a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself down, breathing in slowly to calm down and pull yourself together. Hopefully, they would realize no one was home and be on their way.

It wasn’t until you heard Pumpkin meow and someone speak up that you snapped out of your thoughts. “Aw, she has a cat. How cute, hi pretty kitty,” a soft voice spoke. “Will you let her take it home with you?”

“No, I already have a cat at home that she’ll love, she doesn’t need two. They wouldn’t get along, anyways. Pip hates other cats. Hell, she doesn’t even like Gunner and Tank, and they’ve been living together for years,” another voice answered. “It might be worth it to kill this one, it doesn’t seem friendly and if it stands in the way of me getting my girl, then by all means . . .”

You didn’t even think twice before opening the door and running to the top of the stairs. “No, no, don't do it! Please don’t!” You shouted.

A chorus of chuckles responded to your pleas, and your stomach dropped. You just realized you fell for their trap. They weren’t going to kill your cat, they were just doing it to lure you out of your room. And you fell for it, like a complete idiot.

Their laughter made you realize you didn’t want to cower in your room anymore. This was your house, they had no right to be there. You wanted to see why they were here, even if it got you killed or injured in the end, and you wanted to get them the hell out before you killed them yourself. Without hesitating, you grabbed a pair of scissors from your bathroom and made your way downstairs.

You were greeted by three men, all wearing ski masks to hide their identities. Your stomach dropped once more and your nerves increased again, but you kept your grip tight on your scissors. You weren’t going to let them win.

“Ah, there you are. We were wondering when you were going to come out,” the man in the middle spoke first. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t hurt your cat. You’re gonna love the one I have at home, and she’s going to love you.”

“What the fuck do you want with me, assholes?” You spat, holding up the scissors higher. “I won’t hesitate to stab you if you come any closer and I got the cops on speed dial.”

The third person laughed at your words. He was taller than the other two, his demeanor much different compared to them as well. His voice was deep and you could picture his sinister smile under his mask so easily. You seriously considered stabbing him right then and there. “You picked a feisty one, Sannie. I like her, do you think she’d be better off with me?” He questioned.

The man in the middle, who apparently went by the name Sannie (it must be a nickname), answered his friend bitterly. “You’re funny, Mingi. But you know she’s mine, everyone does. No one touches her but me,” the man explained. “Sorry about him. Mingi here likes to flirt with any girl that breathes, including ones that are taken.”

“What the hell– what the fuck is this? Are you here to kill me, sacrifice me to the woods, what the fuck?” You shook your head in pure confusion. “I’ll call the cops, I swear to God–”

“And what will that do, baby? We know how to outrun cops, they won’t get here until the time we’re about to leave,” he teased.

You froze at the nickname, a stern look now on your face. Who the hell does this guy think he is? You take a few steps back and hold the scissors out to stop them from coming closer to you. “My mom’s jewelry isn’t here if that’s what you want. She gave it to someone to keep it safe, and they live far away from here. I don’t have anything, only two dollars and a broken record player. I got nothing, nothing that you want.”

“Oh, but you do have what I want,” the man snickered. “Come with me and we’ll leave your house alone. Everything will go untouched.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” you spat.

“Ah, but it will,” he protested. He turned to his two friends, who stood quietly and waited for instructions. “You have her family’s location, right? Send a text to Cyrus and send his men to their hotel, give them a good scare and take everything they have.”

Deep down, you knew he was bluffing. He was just doing it to get a rise out of you, he wouldn’t actually hurt your family. But you couldn’t risk it, no matter how much your brain was trying to rationalize with you. You immediately stepped closer to all of them, a look of fear and worry now on your face. “No, no, no! Please don’t, don’t bring my family into this, they haven’t done anything. Just leave them alone! Don’t hurt them, please.”

“Then do as I say,” he spoke slowly and grunted. “Come with me and everything goes untouched, including your family and pets. Deal?”

You hesitated. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes as you stared at the masked men — you hated this, how much power they had over you. Breaking into your home in the middle of the night and demanding you leave the people you’re taking care of. You wanted to stab all of them and call the police to make them go away — but you knew you couldn’t take them all in a fight. It would end up with you and your family getting hurt, and you couldn’t risk that.

A small plan came to mind. You weren’t sure how well it would work, but there was a small chance it would. Your phone could still send text messages even if the connection was bad, a SMS message. Your brother was always up at this hour, he was a night owl who loved to stay up and play video games until he got tired. If you sent him a message telling him what happened and to call the cops on your behalf, surely they would get to your house on time and save you from this mess. He could even call the other members of the Sons of Anarchy and have them save you, they would be at your house in no time. If that didn’t work, then you could send your location to your brother and have him track you wherever you go. It was a longshot, but you had to try. Anything to get out of this and keep yourself safe.

“F-Fine, I’ll go with you,” you stuttered nervously. “But I need to change, it’s too cold for me to be wearing just a t-shirt. I’ll be right back.”

The man shook his head. “No, we’re going now—”

You cut him off instantly. “I need to change and you’re going to let me do so. Got it?”

The other men laughed at your comment, clearly not intimidated by your stern voice. The one you spoke to only sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Okay, sure. But you have five minutes. If you’re not back here, I’m coming up there to get you. Got it?” He mocked. You only sent him a stern look before trudging up the stairs. You instantly ran into your bedroom, your dog barking loudly while you whipped out your phone and started to text your brother. You began the message by addressing him by his name to show him how serious this was. I need you to call the cops, these men broke in and one of them is trying to kidnap me. Have them come to the house, I’m sending you my location in case they take me before the cops get here. Tell mom and dad what’s happening. See if Jeffery or the others can help. I love you so much.

The message wasn't sent until you sent it as an SMS message. You sighed in relief, hoping this would all be resolved within the next day or two. You closed your eyes to breathe for a moment, until you heard the muffling of shoes and voices downstairs, the sounds making you angry. “You got two minutes, Princess. Are you almost done?” The man shouted.

“Whatever!” You shouted back as you rolled your eyes. The nickname, the men, the one who wanted to kidnap you — it was all stupid. Stupid bullshit you had no idea why it was happening. You wanted to scream, but you hoped the cops would be on their way soon. You just hoped your plan would work to some extent. It didn’t have to be perfect, you just needed to be saved from whatever the hell this was.

You quickly threw on a purple long sleeve shirt and grabbed your phone, slipping it into your purse you decided to bring last minute. It had a taser and pepper stray, which would come in handy if any of them tried to hurt you. Hesitantly, you opened your bedroom door and made your way to the kitchen.

You could feel eyes burning into you as you walked downstairs. Someone whistled, which resulted in the man speaking to you hitting their chest harshly. He walked over to you and placed your hand into his, his grip strong but gentle. “You look beautiful, let's go home, it’s late and we both need to get some sleep, don’t you think?”

No words left your lips. Rather, you just remained silent as the man eagerly began to walk out of your house. Tears formed in your eyes once more as you got outside, scared to leave your home and family. You had no idea what the hell was going to happen, and the thought of never seeing them again made your heart shatter.

It didn’t take you long to reach the cars parked near the woods. One of them was a van, in which the two men entered and began the engine. They both fist-bumped the man you were with (you wanted to scream), congratulating him on “getting his girl” (whatever the fuck that meant). As the two drove off, you were thrown into the passenger seat of a nice pickup truck. The man didn’t say a word to you, he only got in and began to drive off.

You had no idea where you were going. If they were going to kill you, or worse. The fear kept creeping into your mind; you had to do something, but you felt frozen. Then, out of nowhere, you started to pull on the door handle harshly in hopes the door would open. Perhaps your brain finally came to its senses and told your muscles to do something.

“Let me go, asshole!” You told him aggressively as you continued to yank on the handle. The man only laughed, to which you sent him a pressing glare and widened your eyes. “I’m sorry? I’m fighting for my life against a stranger who kidnapped me and all you can do is laugh? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He continued to laugh and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re just so cute when you act out, it’s just so adorable.”

This man is insane, you thought to yourself. Your jaw dropped and you immediately closed it before he could make another comment. An idea perked up in your mind and you sent a soft smile to him. “I can be extra cute, you know. Yeah, if you stop the car and let me out, I’ll act extra cute just for you. You’re going to love it.”

“Sure, baby. I’ll let you out in a few minutes,” he told you, his eyes still on the road.

You got excited. You were hopeful that he had fallen for your trap. You were starting to think that maybe he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. That sense of optimism and hope you had was instantly crushed, however, once you realized you were pulling into a driveway. He was only going to let you out once you got here, so you wouldn’t be able to run away. Nice going, idiot, you thought to yourself.

The man had stopped his truck and jumped out to grab you. It didn’t take long before he was helping you out and walking you into the house with an arm around your waist. No matter how hard you tried to pull away, his grip remained firm. And you couldn’t fight back because of how strong he was. The muscles poking out of his t-shirt told you everything you needed to know.

The house was pretty big, with pretty windows and exterior design. A lake stood only a few feet away from the backyard, some fireflies flying over the water and area. You didn’t want to admit it, but the sight made you smile a little, but it faded away once the door opened and you were forced into the house by the man. Who knows what was on the other side.

The inside looked even prettier than the outside, which took you by surprise. You couldn’t help but stare in awe at the place, as it was the spitting image of your dream home. The furniture, the walls, the decor — it was everything you wanted in a house. For a split second, you had forgotten where you were or what was happening. It was honestly nice to just enjoy the scene in front of you, admire the house and pretend like everything was okay.

“Do you like it?” The man asked, pulling you back into reality. “I had it designed a few years ago, but added what you liked once I learned more about you. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I hate to say it, but it is. But there is one thing I’d take out that would make it absolutely perfect. I wonder what that could be . . . oh yeah, you,” you spat, crossing your arms over your chest. “So, what? Are you going to kill me in your basement, sell me or my organs to the black market? Sacrifice me to some cult you and your friends are a part of? You mind telling me what the hell is going on here? You’ve kept me alive this long, and if I’m going to die soon, I’d at least like to know what I’m dying for. And take off your mask, I’d like to know the face of the man I’m going to haunt for all eternity once I’m dead. Plus, it’s really stupid.”

He chuckled at your words. You could picture his smug smile under his mask, and it annoyed you even more. “Nah, none of the above, actually. I brought you here for a more special reason, and it has nothing to do with you dying or being sacrificed to Satan.”

“How unfortunate,” you muttered under your breath.

He didn’t say a word about your comment. Instead, he slowly removed the ski mask off of his face and set it down on the table. You stared at him, taking in his features. He had a sharp jawline, with brown eyes and red hair. Dyed red hair, obviously. You could see his dark roots under the red. He looked intimidating, but also . . . sweet? Kind? You couldn’t tell. He had an awful demeanor, given what he just did to you. He was strong, as you noticed the muscles standing out through his shirt from beforehand. Buff, if you will. But even within that, he didn’t seem too mean. There was something about him that appeared to be gentle, which made no sense given the context of why you were in his house.

He caught you staring at him and sent you a sly smirk. “Like what you see?”

“No,” you responded quickly and rolled your eyes. “Now answer my question: what the hell do you want with me? Why am I here?”

The man only sighed and made his way closer to you. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, goosebumps now evident on your neck. You gulped in fear, hoping he would stop and give you some space. “You’re here because I want you to be with me. My girlfriend, if you will. I knew the first day I saw you that you were mine. The boys kept telling me I had to give it more time to really make sure, but I didn’t agree with them. I made them help me make a plan to bring you home, and now here we are.”

“P-Plan? You had this entire thing planned, to kidnap me?” You asked. “W-What, this is so fucked up, I . . . wait, when did you see me? Because I’ve never seen you before in my life, you’re lying.”

“A few months ago, when you were working at the grocery store. You were too caught up in getting that order ready, but you gave me a soft smile, and I knew then that it was you. I did everything I could to learn more about you, and it didn’t take me long to concoct a plan to make you mine,” he explained.

You wanted to scream. Your chest was tight and you could feel your hands forming into fists. Tears began to prick in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall, you didn’t want this man to think you were weak, or that you wanted his sympathy. “So you stalked me? You just gathered all the information that you could and stalked me?”

“Well, when you put it that way—” He tried to joke, but you only scoffed. He grabbed your arms in an attempt to help you not get angry. “Hey, hey — I know it sounds bad, but I did this for a reason. The men in my line of business, it’s just how we get our girls and make them ours. It helps us ensure that they stay with us and no one will take them away. I had to do this, to make sure you were safe. You’ll understand overtime.”

The man was rubbing his thumb over your arms to help you calm down, but you yanked them back and made your way to the other side of the living room, to get as far away from him as you could. “First of all, that is wrong on so many levels, I don’t even know what to say except that you’re crazy and that is not how you treat romantic partners. Second of all, you could’ve just asked me on a date like a normal person, I would’ve said yes.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? I’ll take you on a bunch of dates soon, Princess. It’ll be like you said and we’ll do anything you want. Anything to make my girl happy.”

“I’m all set, thanks. I’ll be getting out of here soon enough, so the dates aren’t gonna happen. Especially when you’re behind bars,” you reassured both yourself and him.

Your comment only made him laugh. “Sure, baby, sure. The cops won’t find us, I know how to outrun them and keep them off my back. You think I would just take you without thinking about the police first? They won’t know a thing, and they’ll never find you. Hell, they don’t even know what I look like, just my name. Even then, they fear me.”

“I’m not talking about the cops. My family and our friends know a thing of two about dealing with assholes like you. You’ll be lucky if they let you go in one piece, and even then you’ll be begging them to throw you in a jail cell,” you threatened. If there was one thing you knew for sure in this world, is that if you were ever in a crisis, your family and their motorcycle gang would be there in an instant to get you out. That was the only thing keeping you sane, knowing they would save you from this mess.

He couldn’t help but scoff at your comment. “Oh, really? You think the Sons of Anarchy are gonna scare me into letting you go? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Princess, but I can outrun and outsmart your family and their little group. Once they figure out who I am, they’ll be scared shitless and won’t stand a chance against me and the boys. The cops fear me, they’ll fear me, everyone is scared of me. There’s no getting out of this, no matter how hard you try.”

“Yeah? And what’s your name if everyone’s so scared of you?” You joked, trying to irk the hell out of this man so he would eventually break and let you go.

“San. Choi San, if you want my full name.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. You heard that name before, a long time ago, but you couldn’t remember where. “Choi San . . . why does that sound familiar?”

“Probably heard of me on the news. The gang I’m a part of, too. Yeah, we’re on the news a lot for the shit that we do. Does the name Ateez ring a bell? Everyone says we’re dangerous and a threat to the city, but it’s a bunch of bullshit. We’re just doing what we love most. We’re strong, fast, and protect ourselves well. Where’s the harm in that?”

Your stomach dropped at the realization. You knew very well what Ateez was, they were the talk of the town for years, even now. You remember learning about them when you moved home for your master’s program, your family so horrified and disgusted with their actions. You didn’t like them, either, being extra precautious when traveling around town and when you were at school for the day. But you never thought you’d actually come face to face with one of the members; it was one of those things where you would never expect to run into them in real time, only in your imagination. To be in the house of a member was something you never expected to happen.

The room was silent as you stared at San. Your breath hitched as you felt your feet take you backwards, only a little bit. Being a member of Ateez only meant violence, danger, and you had no idea what Choi San wanted with you. You wanted to take out the can of pepper spray you brought with you. The lap in the living room seemed to be a better weapon, however. Anything to defend yourself against him in case things went terribly wrong. “Ateez? Yeah, I’ve heard of you. You’re criminals. You’re dangerous, violent, and cruel.”

“Ouch. That your opinion or what everyone else keeps telling you?” San bit back, taking a few steps closer to you, in which you kept backing up. “Whatever you think about us, it’s not true. We aren’t evil people, we work for what is ours and do whatever we need to do to get it. Yeah we’re involved in dangerous shit, but we can protect ourselves well. We know how to handle it.”

“Doesn’t negate the fact that you still work with illegal shit,” you spat, your arms now crossed over your chest.

San let out a small laugh. “Oh, and the Sons of Anarchy are completely innocent? They’re not the good people you think they are,” he said, saying your name at the end of his sentence to show how serious he was being.

“That’s different. The Sons of Anarchy have done some terrible things, yes, but they’ve changed. They aren’t the same people they were five years ago, my brother is changing it for the better. Unlike you and your friends, they actually care about people and don’t take them from their homes in the middle of the night,” you defended.

“Yeah, sure they have. Deny it all you want, but they are exactly the same as us. We are one in the same. You’ll see it soon enough and realize your family aren’t the perfect people you make them out to be,” San fought back, his jaw now tighter than before. Whatever you said ticked him off, perhaps at how naive you were being.

But you didn’t care. You stood by what you said — your family and the Sons of Anarchy were good people, they were changing for the better. No matter what San said, you wouldn’t let him get into your head. Especially after what he did to you.

A sigh escaped your lips as you ran a hand through your hair. You slowly started to put the pieces together to try and make sense of all of this. “Is that . . . is that why I’m here? Because you saw me and thought it’d be funny to rip a random girl away from her family? To upset her family who did nothing to you, all because you can? God, why can’t I just go home?”

You were about to cry, you could feel the tears welling up again and your voice getting weaker every time you spoke. As much as you wanted to hold them back, you just let them fall because you couldn’t take it anymore. You let the tears fall as you profusely wiped them with your sleeve. The night had gotten to be too much, between being taken by a random man after he broke into your house and the possibility of never seeing your family again. Your mind couldn’t take it anymore, it had to release its emotions.

San caught onto this and immediately rushed to your side, pulling your hand away from your face and wiping your tears with his thumb. “Hey, hey,” he cooed. When you tried to pull away from him, he gently grabbed your arm and brought you closer to his chest, your arm resting against it to create some distance. “I know this is a lot, this is a big change for you and it’s very hard to hear. But like I told you, I took you because I know you’re the one for me. I want to be with you,” he explained, whispering your name to show how serious he was about this. “My pretty little housewife, I just want to love and take care of you, Princess. This will be a hard adjustment, I know, but I can make you happy, give you a life that you deserve.”

“Wait, housewife? You just said girlfriend, you never said anything about me being a housewife. Jesus Christ, I don’t even know how to cook let alone raise a baby—” You started, your chest tightening in fear.

“Too much, that’s my fault,” San cut you off. He slipped his hand into yours, still holding you in his chest. “Let's go to bed, we can talk about this more in the morning after we’ve slept, okay?”

You didn’t say anything. You remained quiet as San guided you up the stairs. The second floor was even prettier than the first, with multiple rooms lining the halls accompanied with pretty colors and paintings. He took you to the end of the hall, which you assumed was his bedroom. And it was. In the center stood a king sized bed, with a flatscreen TV mounted to the wall. Dressers, a closet, and a master bathroom were a part of the bedroom. It was a nice room, especially with how big the windows were. You liked it a lot, despite the situation you were in.

You awkwardly stood in the middle of the room while San searched through his drawers. He came back to you, handing you a large t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. “These will do for the night, I didn’t get a chance to go shopping for your clothes this week, only some basic t-shirts. We’ll get you some more this week, but for now my clothes will have to do. You can get changed out here, I’ll just change while I brush my teeth. I have one for you, too. You can just come in whenever you’re ready.”

You only nodded your head, and he was in the bathroom within seconds. You quickly tore off your clothes quickly to make sure San wouldn’t come out and see you half naked. His clothes were big, but so comfortable (though you would never admit it). As you folded your clothes, you remembered your phone was still in the back pocket. As quickly as you could, you pulled your phone out to see if your message had gone through. SMS error, the screen read. Damnit, you thought to yourself. You hoped you’d have a second of alone time so you could try sending it again, now that you were in a different location.

You hid your phone under your clothes and kicked them into a pile once you heard San open the bathroom door. Once he walked out, you traded places and began to brush your teeth quickly. You liked how the bathroom had two sinks, a big shower, and a nice bathtub. You always liked bathrooms like that, for whatever reason. They just felt fancy, elegant.

San stood over the bed by the time you had gotten out, scrolling through his phone. He immediately shut it off and walked over to you. He couldn’t help but bite his lip as he admired you (probably because you were wearing his clothes), to which you rolled your eyes. “Sorry, Princess,” he chuckled. “You just look so good in my clothes. My pretty girl. Come, let's go to sleep.”

“Yeah, I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you. I’ll just sleep on the couch downstairs with some pillows and blankets,” you shook your head.

“It wasn’t a question, you’ll be sleeping with me from now on,” he told you sternly, his jaw tightening.

“And I told you I’m not going to,” you fought back. You crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m sleeping on the couch whether you like it or not, asshole.”

Before San could protest, you opened the door. Only, instead of going downstairs, you were stopped by a small cat sitting at the doorway. Once it saw you, it began to meow and rub up against your leg. You immediately fell in love with it; as much as you didn’t want to pick it up (because you weren’t sure if it liked being touched), you felt your arms reaching down and scooping it into your grasp. You immediately felt the vibrations against your hands, the cat now content with you holding it.

“Why hello there,” you cooed with a wide smile. “You are very beautiful, and very sweet. What’s your name? I absolutely adore you.”

“Her name is Pip. I rescued her from a shelter almost seven years ago—” San started to explain.

“I only asked for her name,” you cut him off, your eyes still glued to the cat. “Hi Pippie, that is such a cute name. I want to take you home with me so badly, you’d love my cat. But I guess we’re both stuck here with that thing in the corner, but we don’t have to spend time with him. Come, we’re gonna sleep downstairs on the couch.”

As you were about to leave the bedroom with Pip, San called out to you. “Wait!” he said.

You slowly turned around with the cat still in your arms. “Pip just told me she wants to go to sleep, so make it quick.”

His jaw tightened once more, the stern look from earlier was now on his face again. “The couch isn’t that comfortable to sleep on. It’s less comfortable than the bed. Sleep with me here tonight, and I’ll let Pip sleep right next to you.”

“I still don’t feel comfortable sleeping with you—”

“Pip never sleeps with me, I’ve tried so many times but she won’t budge. But with you, she might. Just sleep here with me, please,” San cut you off, his voice now tired. Clearly, he had enough of your behavior and wanted to go to sleep. You did too, but he asked for this after what he did. It was his own damn fault.

The cat kept purring against you, her head now in your neck. After thinking about this for a few minutes, you let out a sigh and groaned dramatically. “Ugh, fine. You win, I’ll sleep in your bed tonight. But I swear to God, if you try anything, I will stab you over and over again until you are dead. Got it?”

He chuckled with a smile. “You’re so cute when you act all bratty and tough.”

You rolled your eyes as you reluctantly dragged yourself to the bed. “I’m not a brat, you’re the brat,” you muttered. Once you sat down, Pip crawled out of your arms and planted herself on the end of the bed. Slowly and nervously, you laid down and pulled the covers over your body.

Without warning, San wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed your back against your chest. Your hand immediately went up to smack it. “Um, no. This is my half of the bed, you stay on your half. Did you forget about the invisible barrier that splits down the middle?”

“Really? There was? Hmm, guess I broke it,” San shrugged his shoulders. You tried to move out of his grip, but it was no use, he was much stronger than you. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and placed gentle kisses on your cheek and neck. “Goodnight,” he whispered your name, placing one final kiss on your neck.

But you didn’t wish him the same. Rather, you shut your eyes and tried to fall asleep. Pip’s purring and warmth kept you calm, but other than that, your mind was on fire. A million thoughts burned through it, you didn’t know where to begin or how to make sense of it all. Your life changed in an instant. One minute, you were happy living at home with your family and enjoying your small vacation. The next minute, you were kidnapped in the middle of the night by some creep who was a part of the most dangerous gangs in the area, claiming to be in love with you and making you his “girlfriend.” You had no idea why this was happening to you, why he wanted you, out of all people.

You always cringe at yourself whenever you think of yourself like this, but you weren’t special. You wanted to smack yourself in the head at how stupid you sounded, but it was true. You weren’t. You were just like everyone else, no matter how hard you tried to be different. Everything you did, from tennis to school, was the same as everyone else. There were people who were better than you, much better, you would never be on top. There was always someone who was more talented or more skilled than you. You were never enough, no matter how hard you tried.

Even with your friends and family, you were just normal to them. You knew it was different with your family, since they focused on your brother more and wanted to get him prepared for taking over the Sons of Anarchy when his time came. They constantly praised him and put all of their attention into him, so you expected them to not think of you as their favorite. Your friends were a different story, however.

Whenever you made a friend and became really close to them, you thought so highly of them. You thought they were your best friend, and that they thought the same. The one person they could go to for anything, their special friend. You always thought of your friends that way, but they never did about you. They always had someone they were closer to, someone they’d pick over you without hesitating. You’ve always wanted that, ever since you were younger and everyone seemed to not like you because you were “weird.” And everytime you thought you found that person, they never thought of you the same way.

It crushed you, but you knew that person would come into your life someday. You loved the friends you had and the memories you shared, but you just wanted a best friend. Someone who could count on you and would choose you first, and you the same. Someday you would find that person, you knew in your heart that you would.

You were used to never being enough, for anyone or anything. You had grown to accept that, and you thought you would be fine and that everything happened for a reason. But now came Choi San, a man who claimed to be “the one” for you and would put you first. Well, from what you gathered. You had no idea what he was capable of, if he was going to kill you in the middle of the night while you were asleep. But he seemed to really care for you, in his own sick and twisted way.

He certainly couldn’t be the person you kept praying about. No, this man was insane. He kidnapped you in the middle of the night, took you away from your family, most likely for good. One minute he seemed sweet, but the next, he could easily get angry and possibly hurt you badly. This couldn’t be it, this couldn’t be the person you were searching for your entire life. You deserved better, and this was a sick punishment you got for absolutely no reason. You weren’t perfect by any means, but you did not deserve this.

You were sure things would change in the coming days. You would figure out a way to get out of this hellhole and back to your normal life, even if it took some time. You were determined to be reunited with your family again, and you were going to make sure that it happened. It didn’t matter what you had to endure — as long as you could find a way out, you would do anything if it meant returning to the life you once knew and loved.

All your life, you had been an angel amongst gods and prayed one day you would become one. Now that you had that power, the ability to be seen as a god — you were starting to realize that maybe you were better off being an angel. Angels never got hurt, they cared for others but no one did the same for them. Perhaps you were better off as an angel, invisible amongst the gods where you didn’t have to worry about anyone but yourself.

Back then you had your freedom, but now you were trapped with the devil himself, and you didn’t want to be a god who would succumb to their worst nightmares just to survive. You couldn’t let yourself. And now, you would do anything to get your freedom back. Even if it meant sacrificing yourself to become an angel for as long as you lived.

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piastrinorris · 1 year ago

Text

Worth the Wait

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!bartender!Reader Genre: smut Tags:Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected piv (pulling out) Summary: Your favourite customer has a confession to make, that he's very eager to. You wish you could believe him - if only he weren't drunk every time he saw you. Word count:7.1k A/N: God, this fic's been a long time in the making! I started writing it months ago, but then @choke-me-eddie wrote the phenomenal Jack Daniels and Coke and I gave myself massive imposter syndrome for ages lol, but one day I was going through my WIPs folder and something told me to start this up again. So, here it is! PS: the amount of time i spent on making that gif look like he's getting himself off for more than like 4 frames before feckin roof gets in the way, as naturally as i could get it, is between me and god. 😂

“Hello again, gorgeous,” your favourite voice slurs from the other side of the bar.

You see big, warm brown eyes greet you along with the biggest grin you’ve seen all day and your heart melts, despite the pang of disappointment. “Hello yourself, sweetheart. Back to drown more of your troubles?”

“Can I not just come over to my favourite pub and chat to my favourite barmaid, with no ulterior motive?” he pouts, leaning an elbow on the bar so he can rest his chin on his fist, a trademark pose for Tom.

“Not when you’re already pretty wavy,” you point out with raised eyebrows, wafting the air in front of him. “I can smell the Fosters on you a mile off. Didn’t take you for a piss drinker.”

He pulls a face, “Weren’t my doing, honest. Some of the blokes at work decided to get together an’ have dinner somewhere, an’ they bought everyone a pint each without asking us. I had to sneak in a couple of shots to take the taste away and then they bought another, so I had to drink even more.”

“Your life is so hard, babe,” you pout patronisingly, and he sticks his tongue out at you in response. You pour him a glass of water and slide it over to him. “Here. On the house, and that’s a deal only my favourite customers get.”

He looks at you disbelievingly. “As if water isn’t free for everybody, good one.” You smile back at him with just as much snark as he’s giving you as he drinks it all down in one go, and you take the excuse to watch his throat bob while he’s distracted.

You’ve always had a soft spot for Tom. Ever since the poor sod ended up at your pub following the break-up between him and his childhood sweetheart. You’d heard it all about Ruth, and her new friend Jade, and all of the accusations Ruth would make against Tom just to turn around and do the very same to him with Jade. The last time he visited became a real turning point, when he’d gotten especially drunk and admitted to you that he’d been questioning his attraction to her, himself.

“I don’t even know what it was that turned me off, you know. Or maybe it was never even there.”

“Well, is she your type? What kind of person are you usually into?”

“Pretty girls. Like you,” he drawled, resting his chin on his fist.

“Nice try, Mr Grant. I’d believe you if you weren’t so wasted,” you smirked.

“Ooh, Mr Grant, so formal. How’d you know that, anyway?”

“Your last name? Let’s see, your ID, your bank card… ’S not that difficult to find out.”

“Yeah, but you remembered it. I think you fancy me, too,” he grinned smugly.

“Too bad you’ll never know,” you shook your head, and he pouted at you.

“Not even gonna tell me? Tease.”

“Even if I did, there’s no way you’d remember in the morning, so there’s no point, is there?” you shrugged.

“Bet I would. I’d never forget something if it were about you,” he simpered.

You tried to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach and managed to keep your composure as you replied, “Alright, then, if you still feel the same way about me, but stone cold sober, I’ll give you my number. But only then.”

Tom had wanted to stay true to his promise so badly. He’d wanted nothing more than to just sit and watch you work and flirt relentlessly with you. No liquid courage needed. But of course it was Barry’s birthday, and Barry wanted all the lads together for dinner. Tom had felt honoured to finally be included as one of the lads, but it came at a price. A price that he felt too tipsy to then go back to his caravan, all alone with his thoughts. Only one person usually made him feel better in this state. And he’d promised you a sober confession. Yet here he was, giving you the exact opposite.

“Can I ’ave another one?” he asks, holding the glass out to you.

You kiss your teeth and shake your head, lightly lilting, “Alright, but soon enough, I am gonna have to start charging you.”

He narrows his eyes. “Water don’t cost nothing, though. We already established that, remember?” Still in his hand, he taps the empty glass against his head as you take out a fresh one for him.

“So, maybe I’ll have to think of other ways to have you pay for my efforts,” you smirk, putting the water down and resting your hands on your edge of the bar, shifting your weight onto your wrists.

“Oh, yeah?” Tom leans forward, intrigued, a coy smile playing on his lips. “What’s that, then?”

You wrinkle your nose, "Depends what you've got to offer."

"Just. This," Tom states as he steps back and gestures at himself with both hands, the slur that’s still present in his voice betraying him.

You sigh. "Remember the rule, Tommy boy," you waggle your eyebrows at him, and he groans.

"Yeah. I know,” he pouts as he grabs the glass with a frustrated force and starts chugging again.

You look at him with hopeful eyes. “There’s always next time, eh.”

~~~

“So, let me get this straight,” your best friend stops you, looking up in disbelief at the location you’d chosen. “You decided to get us all to meet up for drinks, for your birthday, and we could have gone anywhere. And you choose your work?!”

“Well, yeah, I’m not allowed to use my staff discount while I’m on shift, obviously, so why not take advantage of it on my big day, eh?!” You grin.

She rolls her eyes, “You’re a menace.”

“Yeah, but you put up with me,” you rest your chin on her shoulder, still beaming from ear to ear as you both stumble into the pub together.

“Ooh, Tommy the Tank Engine at 2 o’clock,” your best friend giggles, pointing over at a group of men that, sure enough, includes Tom himself.

“Don’t point, dickhead!” You hush, grabbing her hand and shoving it back to her side. “Oh, bless him, look at him. Now, listen, you cannot let me get so drunk that I make a tit of myself in front of him, okay? I’ve got a - you know, a -” You wave your hand around in front of you, trying to think of a word. “Not quite reputation, but you know what I mean. A thing we’ve got.”

“I don’t think that I do,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Unless you mean, like… Because you’ve told him you’ll only believe him if he’s sober, you don’t wanna flirt with him while you’re drunk.”

“You get me,” you smile wistfully as you lean against her, cuddling up to her.

Giggling again, she shoves you away. “Gerroff, unless you really wanna give him the wrong impression! Besides, I say go for it, anyway. Ride that train,” she mimics pulling a steam train whistle and you scold her as you shove her towards the bar.

You meet up with the rest of your friends and have a shot with them. One of your regulars wishes you a happy birthday and buys you another. One of your coworkers gives you another one on the house.

You’ve totally forgotten who else was even here, until after your best friend insists on buying you your favourite cocktail, and as you shuffle between other people waiting at the bar to let others get out, you feel your back collide with the solid weight of someone else’s chest, followed by an all-too-familiar, “Easy, tiger!”

You take a deep breath in and look at your best friend in bewilderment before steeling yourself and pivoting to look at Tom, “Oh my god, hi! I’m so sorry!”

“’S alright. Someone’s having a good night, aren’t they?” He smiles down at you.

“It’s her birthday, you know!” Your best friend shouts over at him, and he gives a thoughtful frown back, raising his eyebrows at her.

“I did not know that, as a matter of fact! S’pose I better do my rightful duty and get the birthday girl a drink, too, shouldn’t I?”

“Trying to get me drunk, now, are ya? I see your game, Mr Grant,” you tease, earning a sly grin from him and a side-eye from your best friend.

“Fair’s fair, you’ve seen me plastered enough times,” he waggles his eyebrows at you. “What’s your poison, ladies?”

Tom buys both yours and your best friend’s drinks for you, and orders something for himself while your friend sneaks away to leave you both to it, though you don’t realise it. You frown when you see Tom pick up a full pint glass of Coke and point at it. “Big glass for a mixed drink.”

“Yeah. Almost as though it isn’t,” he smirks, moving his glass to chime it against yours. “Happy birthday, love.”

Though your heart sinks at the idea that he really did try to keep to his word tonight, you decide to keep up the playful rapport the two of you know so well. Punctuating your first three words each with a poke to the middle of his chest, you grin slyly, “I think you are just looking for an excuse to see me drunk, for once.”

Running two of his fingers alternately up your shoulder at his first three words, he mimics your tone, “I think you are just looking for an excuse to touch me.” He rests his wrist on your shoulder, and the fingertips that ghost the skin on your back send shivers all through you.

“Says the man who’s keeping his arm there,” you reply with a smug lipped smile, and he shrugs, that fake frown making another appearance on his face.

“Alright, I guess if you don’t want it,” he slides his arm away from you tantalisingly slowly, his eyes locked onto yours the whole time. You whimper involuntarily, your voice betraying you, when his fingertips are the only thing dragging against you. With a proud chuckle, he rests the heel of his hand back on your shoulder again, his fingertips leaving goosebumps where they ghost against the skin left exposed from the strap of your dress. “You should really get back to your friends now.”

“Not without you,” you pull a face at him, “not after all this! You bought the two of us a drink, remember, you can’t just leave us now!”

He smiles in quiet pride. “What would I tell all my mates, eh? That I’m abandoning them?”

“They can come over, too!” you counter. “My friends won’t mind, they’d love extra company.”

“Why, do you plan on being distracted all night?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you again.

“Where’s this Tom been hiding then, anyway, eh?” you buffer his question with your own. “How come I don’t see this version of you when I’m sober? Am I that intimidating?”

“Ooh, yeah, dead scary,” Tom answers sarcastically, shaking his head and furrowing his brow, but he laughs when you waggle your fingers in a jokingly haunting manner.

“Will you at least drink with me, so I’m not the only one making an arse of myself?” you pout, trying to give him your best doe eyes.

“But then who will be here to document all your arse-ry?” Tom starts, but you interrupt.

“That’s not a word!”

“Piss off, drunky, how do you know?” he teases, laughing at your offended gasp. “No, if you’re gonna make a scene, I wanna make sure my head is crystal clear so I can lord it over you for the rest of time. As it is, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of material to embarrass me with tonight,” he flashes his eyes at you as you approach his friend group, waving your own over.

You all eventually commandeer your own corner of the pub, you and Tom sat on one of the old leather sofas as the other is crammed with a mix of both his friends and yours, as well as others being peppered around on regular dining chairs. After asking around, and others insisting that they’re fine where they are, thereby refusing your invitation to join you and Tom on the sofa, your legs start to ache. Not being able to find enough floor space to stretch them out adequately, you simply decide to drape them across Tom’s lap, which he takes to naturally.

He doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that they’re there at first, which has your mind turning over and over, until he starts gently, absent-mindedly stroking his fingertips up and down your leg. The tingles that shot through you at his touch earlier return again. He notices your longing stare in his direction and, without moving his head, glances over at you, winks, then looks back at the person he's talking to. The sensation that causes goes straight to your core.

“Whose round is it then?” one of your friends asks, standing just next to the sofa you’re sat on.

Leaning back, you wave her over so that she bends down to you, pulling her head down as close as it’ll get to your face before whispering in her ear, “Could you actually just get me a Coke? Nothing in it?” She nods and you grin at her as she stands tall again. “Oh!” You fish your staff ID out of your bag and hand it over to her. “Don’t forget to use that, don’t go paying full price here if you can help it!”

“Not exactly a great advertisement for this place, are you?” One of Tom’s friends asks amusedly before declaring he’ll buy the drinks in, and you watch as him and your friend go to the bar with the intent to order them - though even once they’re out of your earshot, you still notice that they seem to be distracting themselves.

Tom finally finishes his other conversation and nudges you to ask in an intrigued voice, “What were you two whispering about earlier, then?”

“And why’s that any of your business?” You ask back with a sly smile.

He shrugs, “Dunno, might have been about me.”

"If I was gonna talk about you, I'd say it to you," you grin, leaning to rest your head on the back cushion of the sofa.

"Yeah?" he asks with raised eyebrows. “In front of everyone?”

You shrug, “Depends. You got anything you want to tell me in front of everyone?”

He beckons you close with two fingers - a gesture you try desperately not to fixate on - and leans in close to your ear, cups his hand around it and whispers, "I proper fancy you."

"Yeah, and water's wet," you lean around to raise your eyebrows back at him, giggling as he frowns at you. “Glad to hear it from this version of you, though.”

He can't keep his frowning up for long, though, his own eyebrows soon waggling with anticipation. "Alright, so, c’mon, then. You got anything to say to me?”

You lean in with the intention to whisper back in his ear, but you get distracted by your friend handing you your drink, along with a very knowing look. “You two need a room?” They ask with a smirk.

“Like you two weren’t locking lips over at the bar?” You tease back, flashing your eyes over to Tom’s friend briefly. Laughing it off with you, your friend joins her new companion for the night as you settle yourself in next to Tom.

“Big glass for a mixed drink,” he repeats what you’d said to him earlier with a smug look on his face.

Knowing what he’s doing, you grin back, “Almost as if it isn’t.” Leaning across to grab his own glass again from the table, he clinks it against yours for the second time this evening and takes a big swig, his eyes never leaving yours.

When the pub finally closes, you, Tom, and those of your friends that haven’t already dispersed for the night, decide to make for the first fast-food place you see. One of Tom’s friends even takes advantage of Tom insisting on buying you a burger by holding his lighter on top of it while everyone sings Happy Birthday to you. You spend the last few minutes of your birthday surrounded by friends, old and new, singing and laughing and falling against Tom’s arm while he feeds you fries. Sure, you could have gotten even more drunk, found some other club that was open and danced the night away - but something about this just feels nicer.

Everyone’s figuring out their taxi situations when Tom turns to you. “What about you, which cab are you taking?”

“Neither,” you shake your head, scrunching your face up. He looks at you quizzically, and you hold your hand out in front of you to gesture down the road, moving it around a couple of times to gesture your route home. “Walking distance.”

Just as Tom's about to reply, he's interrupted by his friends yelling at him to get in their cab. He looks over at them and turns his nose up. "Nah, think I'm gonna stick with this one, not sure how much I trust these streets. I'll get my own later, it's fine." You don't hear exactly what his mates say, but the general tone of their collective jeering and grabbing Tom's arm as he bats them away and tells them, “Alright, gerroff!” tells you everything.

They chorus one more happy birthday! to you before Tom shuts the car door on them. You shout back that you'll treat them to a round next time they come into the pub and you can hear their cheers even when the door is shut, which makes you laugh. The pair of you wave both taxis off as they drive away, and you and Tom naturally link arms as you start walking back to your place.

"How you feeling?" he asks.

"Pretty damn good. You keep some decent company," you smile at him.

"What, that gaggle of idiots? Yeah, they're not so bad," he laughs softly. "Good birthday, d'you reckon?"

"Best so far," your smile widens as you hug his arm, leaning your head against it. He rests his head on top of yours, reaching over with his free hand to rub where your two meet around his bicep.

The pair of you make little pockets of small talk in the short walk to your house until you stop in front of it. Tom whistles as he looks it up and down. "What's your pay like at that pub? I'll have to start working there."

You laugh, "Calm down, I just rent out the top floor." You sigh happily. "Come see it, if you like."

"Ooh, inviting me in, eh? So late at night? Whatever will the neighbours say?" Tom teases, making you laugh.

"Oh, shut it," you smirk, shaking your head.

"Well, you are sending me mixed signals, here," Tom widens his face and crosses his arms. "See, I've wore my heart on my sleeve. I've told you what I think of you, many a time, in fact. And yet here you go, stringing a poor boy on, leaving him without a clue how you feel," he rocks himself from side to side, his movements and tone getting more and more extravagant as he keeps talking.

You swat at him playfully, "Shut up, or else you really will wake up the neighbours!" You step closer to him and beckon him closer. As he leans in, you move round to cup your hands over his ear and whisper, "I proper fancy you, too."

“Oh, yeah?” He murmurs seductively, reaching over to stroke his hands up and down your arms. “An’ how can I be so sure of that, drunky?”

“Piss off, I’m sober now,” you make the weakest attempt at shoving his chest, your palms flat against it, but it does nothing to his gait, only making him laugh under his breath. Instead, your hands grab the shirt beneath them as you grin, “C’mere,” and pull him in for a kiss. It’s filled with all the passionate relief of finally getting to do something you’ve both wanted for so long, and it only ramps up the longer you kiss for.

You hum in questioning, breaking away for a second to jerk your head towards your door, and he chuckles between even more kisses as he cradles your face, constantly pulling you back in for more. “Trying to get me inside, are you?”

With a sly smile, you pull back. “Well, if you don’t want to -” You swivel to face the door itself, digging your keys out of your bag, but Tom’s back on you in a flash. His body presses into your form as his hands slide back around your body, down to squeeze your hips, back up to wrap around your breasts, all while he kisses your neck.

You melt into his touch, leaning back to press yourself against him. You allow your hips to sway back and forth, grinding your ass against what is almost certainly a bulge straining against the denim. He hums against your neck, “Don’t even wanna wait ’til we get in? Dirty girl,” he accompanies his last remark by leaning back just enough to reach down and lightly spank your ass cheek, making you gasp audibly. Stepping forward to close the gap again, he nuzzles your ear as he purrs, “Oh, she likes that, doesn’t she?”

You whine in agreement and he continues nuzzling his nose down past your jaw, ghosting his lips against the sensitive flesh of your neck once again. You hum out a soft moan as you finally wrestle your key into the lock. The pair of you practically fall over each other to get through the door, but you're quick to pin him against it as soon as it shuts, kissing him desperately.

He moans into your mouth, "Oh, fuck, someone's eager, aren't you? Wanna just take me right here and now, huh?" You laugh against his lips as you keep kissing him. He hums back, "Let's see how much you want me, yeah?" as his hand ghosts beneath the skirt of your dress, sliding up your inner thigh to press against your core through your panties.

You whimper into the kiss and he drawls, "Fuck me, you're so wet, already. Thinking about this on the walk here, were you?" He slides a finger up and down the fabric of your underwear as he mutters into the inch of space between your lips. "Or while we were at the pub?" He asks as he presses against your covered clit. You grab at his shirt, where you'd already made a mess of it, and he whispers smugly, "Or have you secretly spent your whole birthday hoping it'd end with this?'

You cry out again, finally finding your voice, "God, please, Tom… Want more.” You look at him with pleading eyes and he chuckles back.

"Mmm, now there's a face that I've been dreaming about. But you were the one to pin me to the door here, so I think I should get to enjoy kissing you a little bit longer, at least," he mutters as he leans back in to resume his embrace.

"Tease," you accuse against him, and he laughs again.

"'M not teasing at all, sweetness, just been waiting so long for this, I wanna take my time an– Yeah, I'm totally teasing you," he grins as he cranes his head to kiss your neck again. You whine in protest, and he deftly moves your panties aside to slide one long middle finger inside of you. “Go on, then, just one, for now. Seeing as it is your birthday, an’ all,” he grins wickedly, but he soon melts against you as you squirm and moan around him. As his posture relaxes, you move your hands onto his shoulders and start pushing, which he points out with an amused, “You try’na tell me something there?”

“I mean, seeing as it is my birthday…” You counter, lilting with an obviously fake nonchalance.

Tom grins as he sinks himself lower. “Yeah, I’ll get on my knees for you, love.” Once he’s knelt at your feet, he feels his way up your thighs, past your dress until his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He looks up at you pleadingly with a soft noise of questioning, soon beaming once you nod in affirmation as he pulls them down to your ankles. He sighs dreamily as he looks up at you. “Fuck, babe, look at you,” he breathes out. “Could just stare at you for hours.” You pout at him, and he responds with a cheeky, “Yeah, maybe I will. Maybe I’ll just -” He sits back on his heels with a small, smug smile, “sit right back here and watch as - oh, someone’s twitchy, aren’t they?” He asks with soft intrigue, cocking his head to the side as he leans in closer between your legs.

“Tom, please…” You plead. “Enough teasing, now.”

“Yeah? Alright, then,” he sits up to bury his face into you, his tongue lapping away at the edges of your folds. “Mmm, y’taste so good, babe. So much better’n I imagined. C’mere,” he wraps his arms around your thighs as he carries on eating you out. He starts off so carefully, sweet little kitten licks to your clit and long, slow, drawn out ministrations through your core, but he takes the hint when you whine out in frustration, grab his hair and push his head further in.

He starts fucking you with his tongue, making you cry out in ecstasy, especially when he reaches up to rub at your clit in quick circles. You keel over and perch yourself on the door when he switches up to suck on your clit while sinking two fingers into you and curving them. He keeps mumbling into your skin, words you wish you could hear were it not for the blood pumping in your ears, but it seems as though Tom only intends for his compliments to be heard only between him and your cunt.

He finally pulls away, breathing heavily, and pushes himself up to stand, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss. He moans as he presses his body against yours, as though the thought of making you taste yourself is turning him on all the more. “Wanna fuck you,” he pants as he presses his forehead to yours. “Please, I wan- need to be inside you, like, now.”

“Not so cocky, now, are you, babe?” you smirk, and he laughs.

“No, miss, just one taste and I’m already wrapped ’round your finger,” he jokes.

You jerk your head behind you, “Think you can wait ’til we get up them stairs?”

Tom steps aside and gestures towards them with an, “After you.”

You laugh as you first kick away the underwear still sitting on your ankles before taking your shoes off, prompting Tom to do the same. He stays behind you as you run up the flight of stairs leading into your living area, though not without another soft smack to your ass as he follows it.

Once you’re back on flat ground, you hold your hand out for him to take, walking backwards as you pull him towards your bedroom, even while the pair of you lock lips once again. You scramble to get his shirt off before you’ve even reached your bedroom door, though every attempt to lean back and admire him is scuppered by him leaning in to keep kissing you, until you practically fall through the doorway.

You guide him over to your bed and push him down onto it. His hands explore your body as you stand between his legs, before sliding up your thighs and pushing your dress up over your ass. His hands grip your cheeks roughly as he pulls you closer, craning his neck around to look at it as he plays with it, gently slapping each one alternately as it jiggles and loving the sights and sounds of it. "Fuck, angel, want you so bad," he groans before looking up at you pleadingly. "D'you want me, too?"

Caressing his face gently, you beam, "Get the rest of those clothes off and shuffle back on the bed, and I'll show you." Tom scrambles backwards, wriggling himself free of his jeans and boxers as he does, until he's laying back on your pillows, clothes discarded on your bedroom floor. You slowly strip yourself of your own clothes, too, opting to shimmy your dress down past your hips, really putting on a show for him as you push it over your bare ass, before unclipping your bra, holding it high and dropping it down onto the floor.

You stop for a moment to just enjoy the sight of him, your favourite customer, laying on your bed, biting his lip as he jerks off to the sight of you right in front of you. You whimper as you fall to rest one knee on your mattress, rubbing at your own clit as you watch him, the tip of his cock peeking out through his foreskin with every tug, tantalising you. He looks just a little bigger and just a little wider than you're used to, and you feel your pussy drench beneath you at the thought of him filling you up. "You gonna keep that gorgeous body of yours that far away from me for long, sweetness?" Tom pouts, and you hurriedly climb him like a tree. You go to kiss him once you've straddled him, but he jokingly turns his head aside. “No, no, if you’d rather stay away from me, don’t let me stop you,” he jokes, and you consider playing him at his own game, but you realise the quickest way to get what you want.

Pouting, you lean yourself down onto him, especially making sure you squeeze your breasts against his chest, and croon, “Oh, please, Tom, I need you so bad. ’M sorry I got so distracted by what a pretty cock you’ve got, please let me ride it, I swear, I’ll be so good for you.”

Tom slowly turns his head back to look at you, a proud smirk on his face as he lifts his head to place a hand behind it. “Go on, keep begging, that’s my girl,” he drawls, lightly tracing your back with the fingertips of his free hand.

Feeling your heart soar and cunt throb at the sentiment, you whine, grinding your hips against his, "God, Tom… Want you to fuck me so bad, been dreaming about it f'too long, need to feel it now, please? Just for tonight?"

Tom wrinkles his nose. "Dunno about that…" And for a fleeting second, you're filled with a disappointed doubt that he's changed his mind, until he grabs at you and, with a mischievous grin, throws you off to the side, wrestling your giggling self until you're the one laying beneath him. He perches himself on his elbows to hover above you, and playfully and tenderly strokes all around your face before purring happily between kisses, "'M definitely gonna fuck you tonight… But I'm also gonna fuck you in the morning… And again, a little bit after that… And again, after that… Sound good so far?"

You hum happily, "Sounds perfect. But, please can I have your cock inside of me, now? Have I earned it yet?"

"Aww, gonna milk it, pretty girl?" He coos, reaching down to guide his tip between your folds. "Gonna take it all in that tight little pussy of yours, yeah? Gonna be good f'me?" You nod, whining desperately as you feel him starting to push into you. "Oh my god," he whimpers as he enters you, kissing you passionately as he fills you. Your hips start to buck down instinctively as he moves, and he tuts, "Fussy girl can't wait?"

You pout your lower lip out, "'M not fussy."

He does the same expression back to you sarcastically. "You're not?" He asks mockingly as he slowly starts pulling out. You grab his shoulders in protest, and that wicked smile of his comes back. "Fuck me, you are dirty, aren't you?" You nod in defeat, and he presses another kiss to your lips. "Good," he beams before sinking himself back into you, filling you up.

Your fingers dig into the supple flesh just above his shoulder blades as your legs wrap around his hips. "Oh, fuck, Tom… So much… Better…"

"Better, eh? So you'd think about me, too? While I spent - mmm - my nights getting off to the - fuck - thought of you, you were - shit - doing the same?" You nod, whining in agreement, and he moans as his thrusts get more frantic. "Fuck, I've wanted you - needed you - for so long, now… Never letting you go, never gonna stop - ah, shit, yes," he groans.

You pout at him, "Not even at least long enough for me to get on all fours?"

He looks at you as though all of his Christmases have come at once. "You want that?"

You nod, biting your lip. "And, since you love it so much, you can pull out and cum on my ass, if you want."

Add all his birthdays at once as well, based on his reaction. "Always knew you were the perfect woman, holy shit," he mutters in awe as he pulls out of you. You turn yourself around to get on your hands and knees, arching your back to present yourself to him, and he grabs at your ass to admire the sight in front of him, and he growls under his breath. A guttural, feral sound that has you clenching around nothing. “Been thinking about this much, then?”

“Oh, only pretty much every time I’m closing up the bar,” you chirp in reply. “Why’d you think I’ve been asking for you to stay sober for a night?”

“Fuck, if this is what one night gets me, I’m going teetotal,” he sighs wistfully, making you giggle.

“What was that line you gave me earlier about keeping that body away from me?” You tease, biting your lip as you anticipate the inevitable spank to your ass cheek with glee.

“Cheeky,” he smirks back as he admires how your skin ripples under his touch, "not so fun when it's the other way around, is it?"

"Does that mean you're gonna beg for me now, then?" You ask hopefully.

Tom pushes your back down enough for him to lean over you entirely to be within whisper distance of your ear. You feel his cock pressing into the crack of your ass as he whimpers, "Oh, please, miss, let me fuck you into oblivion. 'M such a good boy f'you, been waiting all this time to show you, been thinking about this all along. Please give me what I want."

"Yeah?" You moan against your pillow. "Tell me as you're filling me up again."

You feel him start to line his cock up with your pussy from behind as he admits, "Think about the day you'd finally tell me to hang back. I'd sit you on the pool table and eat that sweet little pussy of yours 'til it stains it. Bend you over that bar - that you've been spending months teasing me behind - an' just -" He lets out a long, shaky breath as he pushes his tip inside of you, revelling in the feeling of your cunt immediately pulling him in for more.

"Please, Tom…" you whine. "'S all I think about when I'm closing, too. Can't look anywhere without thinking of how you'd fuck me," you admit half-sheepishly as you rock back onto him.

Tom's hips buck to meet yours as he groans. "God, I've been a fucking idiot, then, haven't I?" He half-laughs.

"'S fine, just - fuck me now, please? Just how you’ve always wanted to?" You beg, crying out in delight as he grabs your hips and starts thrusting frantically into you.

You've always thought it was cliche as all hell when people say that with the right person, it feels as though they're made for you - but Tom barely needs any direction from you to bring you to your apex. He feels right inside of you, he's hitting just the right spots at just the right pace, without you even needing to ask him. And the sounds he makes as he's fucking you, just the knowledge that you're clearly making him feel the same way, turns you on even more.

His moans become more strained, and his grip tightens. "Fuck, babe, need - need to feel you cum so I can - fuck, are you close?"

You whine out an, "Almost. I can get there quicker, though," you start shuffling to reach down between your legs, but Tom bats your hand away.

"Please, allow me," he smirks as he strokes your clit up and down.

"Such a gentleman," you tease, and he chuckles.

"Not much gentle about me, love," he purrs before rubbing your clit in deliberate, tight, fast circles, slapping your ass once more for good measure and practically losing himself inside of you when he feels how you clench around him at that.

When you climax, it's more intense than you've felt for a long time, if at all. You paint his cock in your juices, and he only just about manages to pull it out of you in time to spread warm spurts of thick cum against your ass.

You flop down onto the bed, still stomach first, in exhaustion, smiling wistfully at the feeling of Tom lightly dragging the tip of his cock through the strings of cum he's left on your ass cheeks. "Having fun back there?"

"Just sort of sinking in that it's really happened," he replies in a state of dazed happiness. "How you feeling?"

"Good," you smile back in the same tone, "so very good."

"Yeah?" he smirks proudly.

"Should probably clean up," you mutter into your pillow, "but I don't wanna move right now."

Tom laughs, "C'mon, let's see if we can share a shower without you trying to go for round two, eh?"

You sit up on your knees, pivoting to face him, and gasp in shocked offence, making him laugh even more. “Oh, if I can, eh? And what about you?!”

He leans in with a grin, holding you by the throat as he kisses you deeply, longingly. “I already know I can’t.”

Once you’re both stood up, the rest of the night catches up with you and you both spend a moment blinking at each other heavily and laughing in exhaustion. You do share a shower, but it’s tender, soft, intimate. Lots of gentle caressing and slow kisses as you bathe Tom in your signature scent, the two of you becoming as one.

When you’re all clean, dry, and snuggled in Tom’s arms in your bed, you sigh. He turns his head to rest his face against the top of your head, pressing a soft kiss to it as he asks, “What’s wrong, sweetness?”

“Don’t want to fall asleep, now. Means it’s over,” you mumble into his bare chest.

“What, d’you really think I’m gonna ghost you after this?!” Tom asks with amusement. “You’re stuck with me now, babe.”

“Oh, no(!) How terrible(!)” You joke, and Tom gasps.

“Cheeky!”

“Ah, can’t reach down to spank me now, can you?” You tease.

Tom hums sleepily, “Hmm, I’m keeping track in my head of what I owe you, don’t you worry,” and you giggle. “Y’know, this wasn’t really how I wanted to do things with you.”

“How’d you mean?”

Tom shuffles a little, “Well, y’know. The deal was only ever to get your number, at first. Then, I was gonna wow you with my excellent flirting skil- why’re you laughing?” He pokes the soft part of your side, tickling you and making you laugh even more. “Anyway, wanted to do it all… Y’know, proper. Wine and dine you, so you knew it was for real.”

You frown, tracing the freckles on his chest absent-mindedly. “Yeah, but you did do all that. You bought me a drink at the start… Bought me my burger… And I think I know how you feel about me well enough by this point,” you grin. “Just thought you’d earned a night of teasing me, for once. Don’t get too used to it, though.”

“Oh? Sounds like a challenge,” Tom smirks, and you laugh. He sighs happily, “I really do like you, by the way. Not just drunky Tom, an’ I wasn’t just trying to get you in bed, neither. Not that I’m complaining,” he squeezes you closer to him, smiling into your hair.

“I like you too, Mr Grant,” you tease back, looking up at him to kiss him. One kiss gets followed by another, and another. “Things just feel right with you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I do,” he replies wistfully. “Like… Not to bring up my ex, but being Ruth was just like… Doing it to get it over with, d’you know what I mean? Like we did because it’s a thing people do. But that was just fun, like we were having a laugh but it was so fucking good at the same time. ’M just sorry I only made you come the once, especially on your birthday. How inconsiderate, eh?!” he jokes, and you laugh so loudly that your hand flies up to your mouth, but Tom gently guides it back away, watching you with adoration.

“Trust me, that was plenty! If anything, I’m sorry I didn’t get to play with you more,” you go back to playing with his freckles.

“Right, so, plan is, we get up nice an’ early in the morning, you suck me off and then ride my face until you’ve had at least three orgasms, yeah?” Tom jokes.

Laughing, you offer, “Deal. If you’re still asleep when I wake up, I'll just get started and wait for you to catch up, shall I?"

"God, it's like you're in my brain," Tom shakes his head as you both fill the room with laughter.

“S’pose we should get some sleep then, shouldn’t we?” You suggest, shuffling around until you’re comfortable. He matches your posture easily, spooning you and wrapping you up in his embrace as he settles down next to you.

“G’night, love. Hope you enjoyed your birthday,” he muses in your ear.

“Definitely the best one yet.” You smile sleepily as you feel him lean over to kiss your cheek, and turn your head around to sneak in a few more kisses before finally falling asleep.

tagging a few people who might especially want to read, feel free to tell me if you don't want to be tagged <3: @keerysquinn @pedgito @babybluebex @reysorigins @keeponquinning

#tom grant #tom grant x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant imagine #tom grant fanfiction #tom grant fanfic #tom grant fic #tom make up #tom make up x reader #tom make up x you #tom make up imagine #tom make up fanfiction #tom make up fanfic #tom make up fic #*myfics #fic: tom g

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actuallysaiyan · 18 days ago

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Silence Teaches You How(Serial Killer!Kenpachi x Fem!Reader)

warnings(PLEASE READ THESE PROPERLY FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY) : smut, DARK content, YANDERE themes, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME, STALKING, MURDER, unprotected sex, CERVIX mention, creampie finish, DUBCON(bordering on NONCON), slapping, biting, blood mentions, VERY VERY VERY DARK CONTENT

word count: 2.7k

pairings: Serial Killer!Kenpachi x Fem!Reader

summary: there's a serial killer on the loose in your town and you are his next victim...or are you the apple of his eye?

a/n: thank you to Vero(@yeowangies) for helping me with this! this might be one of the darkest things I've ever written. dividers by: @/adornedwithlight. Want the full effect? Listen to the Sinister OST, especially BBQ '79 where I got the title from.

He’s been watching you. Every second of every day, he watches you carefully. He’s never seen anyone so full of youth. So vivacious. You practically bounce with every step you take. It’s so perfect, and yet he’d love to fucking tear you apart.

You’re so unaware that he’s there watching you. You don’t notice that someone is always making sure you get home safely. You don’t realize that someone wants to watch you and see what you’ll do.

Then the reports come on the radio, the TV and even on social media. You try to ignore it, but you’d be lying if you said the thought of a serial killer on the loose didn’t make you the least bit nervous.

You’ve seen the pictures. He looks tall, and definitely more buff than you thought. Something about him is far more menacing than you’ve ever witnessed. Even though his face is covered by a mask, you swear you can see the anger and hatred in his eyes. You can sense it.

First it’s police outside in your neighborhood to keep watch on things during the dark hours of the night. Then it’s the cops in the schools, making sure kids are safe. Then the curfews start.

After that, you become much more aware of your own surroundings. You find yourself jumping at your own shadows much more. You sleep with a baseball bat under your mattress, ready to grab whenever you need it. You were becoming even more afraid than before.

Who would have thought something like this would happen in your little town? You thought you could live here without having this kind of worry. You had watched the news and heard all the gruesome things they’d even decided to share.

This man was out there. He was ready to kill his next victim. It didn’t seem to matter to him who it was either. It was going to be any one of you. They had a very hard time trying to pinpoint who it was too. He was ruthless, clever and didn’t leave any traces of who he was.

Every night was the same. You’d get home before the curfew. You’d make yourself dinner and then you’d watch the news until it was time to go to bed. And then you’d meticulously check every window and every door.

You’d never let any of them go unchecked. Not before going to bed.

And yet every night, he still found a way inside…

He found that you had neglected to get that lock changed in your old backdoor. It still locked, but it wasn’t a perfect latch. It was an easy way for him to sneak in too. He would just walk up to the door, unlatched it and then he slid inside.

And for the next few nights after he found out that your door was easy to break into, he decided to watch you sleep. You looked like a pretty little angel. How you slept so peacefully despite the concern and worry you held with you all day. Maybe it was from the sleeping pills he was secretly sneaking into your food and drink when you weren’t being as aware as you thought you were.

Some nights, he would just sit next to your sleeping form on the bed. He would play with your hair, loving the smell of your shampoo. Oh you were just so goddamn beautiful. Too beautiful for someone so dark and ugly like him.

The nights became darker as the season was shifting. Despite it being close to Halloween, it seemed like less and less people were excited for a festival that most usually were looking forward to. This serial killer had plagued this small town with terror and fear.

It was around this time that you started receiving mysterious love letters. You slept with one eye open that night, afraid for your life. The letters were short, but you knew they had to be from him. They couldn’t be from anyone else. And he was hiding them in spots in your apartment.

Finally, you decided to go to the police. You filed a report with them, which made you feel a little more at ease. They promised to come patrolling in your neighborhood a little more heavily that night. You felt like a wave of relief washed over you when one of the policemen gave you his personal number to call if anything happened. And they even promised to do a thorough sweep of your home before you even returned.

Though you weren’t completely able to prove that it was in fact the serial killer sending you these love letters, they weren’t going to be taking chances.

So you got home to the police just leaving your home. They assured you that everything would be alright. One of them stayed patrolling the neighborhood.

So you went through your nightly routine as usual. Though you were very jumpy. You were so afraid. Even trying to settle down and eat your meal was too much. You didn’t feel hungry at all. Your skin was crawling at just the idea of that man lurking somewhere in your apartment.

And then it was time for bed. Oh you were dreading it. Just the thought of being alone in your bed made you scared. You tried to calm yourself with a shower and some tea, but your heart was in your throat. Your stomach was in knots.

You laid in bed, looking up at the ceiling. You had a few lights on, but those were proving to make you feel even more anxious. You looked outside your window to make sure that the police would be outside, but you couldn’t see any of their cars. You tried to reason with yourself and tell yourself that they’d be back in the neighborhood soon.

The lights cut out soon after.

You grabbed for your baseball bat, only to find it missing from its original hiding space. You heard heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. You gripped your sheets, wanting to pull them up over your head.

He was coming to you. Finally, he would reveal himself to you. He knew there was nothing you could do to stop him. He would finally have you. You were his everything. He was madly in love with you.

The footsteps stop right outside your door. You look over as fear has you stuck on your bed. You’re without a weapon, without help and the lights are cut. You have no real escape unless you take the window. And even then, you’re about 3 storeys up. You’d be risking your death if you tried that route.

Kenpachi snickers to himself. You were completely at his mercy. He sheathes his blade in the holster, smirking as he slowly opens your bedroom door. You’re gripped with fear, praying to some unknown savior. Nobody could take you away from him now. You were all his and he wouldn’t let anyone take you.

“Hello sweetheart,” he croons as he walks in. He’s close to seven feet tall, and he’s big and buff.

You’re shaking as you look up at him. He looks down at you, a smile on his face. You didn’t think that his smile would captivate you quite like this. He then reaches out to caress your cheek, and you shudder when you feel the warm liquid smearing on your face.

“Sorry about that, beautiful. I didn’t mean to…”

He sighs before he sits down next to you. His weight makes the bed dip down. You try to crawl away from him, but he’s quick to pin you down. His smile is a little wilder now, and yet you are still so intrigued.

“Have you been getting my letters?” He asks, leaning in to kiss you.

It’s a warm kiss. Not cold and deathly, like you had imagined someone like him would kiss. It’s so warm. He tastes like iron and cinnamon…he smells like fire. There’s something so captivating. Your brain is yelling at you to push him off and to try for the window. Your heart says you can’t make it on time.

“Have you?” He growls, pinning you down harder. You yelp in surprise.

“I—I have. please…Please just let me go. I won’t tell anyone you were here.”

He laughs. “It’s too late for that. I know you already went to the police. Are you that afraid of me, angel?”

You want to say something, but all you can do is shake your head ‘no’. He laughs again. It’s sardonic and deep. This is when you know you won’t be getting out of this alive.

His hands are surprisingly gentle as he begins to caress you. He starts with your face, then down your neck. When he feels your pulse, he notices how badly your heart is racing. He loves having this effect on you.

Then he begins to take off your clothes. You’re pleading and crying to him, trying to appeal to some humanity inside of him, if he has any. He begins to mock you, blubbering and whimpering in a very taunting kind of way.

“Don’t worry about it. You know I’ll make you feel good.”

You want to close your eyes and wish this all away. But you know you can’t do it. Nothing good will even come out of that. You grimace as you feel his calloused hands on your smooth skin. Something about this ignites a fire deep inside of you.

Kenpachi leans in to lick them off your cheeks, moaning as he finally has your flavor on his tongue. He continues to lick your face, then leaning in closer to bite at your neck as he tugs and pinches your swollen nubs.

He smirks when he notices you lightly arching into his touch. Then he kneads your breasts roughly, making you cry out. He tugs at your nipples, loving the way you’re crying for him. The tears in your eyes that slowly roll down your cheeks make him thirst for you.

“G-get off. Please…I’ll give you money. Please, anything but this.” You try to reason with him.

You feel the sting of his hand on your cheek. More tears roll down your face. You can’t stop sniffling now. You know there’s just no escape from him. And yet part of you doesn’t even want to escape from him. You want to lay here and take what he’s got to offer.

“Say that shit to me one more time, and I promise you’ll regret it.”

His warning is enough to have you settle into the plushness of your blankets. He smiles when he notices how docile you’re being. Kenpachi leans in to whisper in your ear, “I really don’t want to get rough with you, doll. Please don’t make me do that again. Please.”

You nod your head, trying to be as calm as possible. Then his hands wander down your body. He pulls off your pajama pants and he smirks when he sees you’re not wearing any underwear.

“Perfect. Here’s my meal.”

He spreads your thighs, making you shudder. The way he has complete control over your body has that flame inside of you growing. Arousal pools deep inside of you. Your slick begins to dribble out of you. Kenpachi grunts as he gets a whiff of you.

“Heh,” he laughs. “I knew you’d like this.”

And without another warning, he’s devouring you like he hasn’t had a meal in days. Your nectar is the only thing he ever wants to taste again. His hands grip your thighs so hard, you know there are bruises already forming.

You can’t help but gasp and moan as he hits all your sweet spots. You want to reach down to grip onto his hair, but you stay on the bed and you don’t move. Kenpachi makes the most obscene noises as he works you to a very messy, wet orgasm.

Once you ride out your high, he easily maneuvers you onto your hands and knees. He presses your face into the pillows and all you can hear is a zipper being unzipped. You try to turn around to look at him, but your face is pressed deeper into the pillows.

The first couple of thrusts are experimental. You try to hide your whines of pain, but Kenpachi can hear them. What surprises you is when he begins to play with your clit to make you even more aroused. You let out such a cute moan when he finally bottoms out and rubs against your cervix.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “You’re much tighter than I thought.”

And with that, Kenpachi leans over to grab onto the headboard for leverage and he begins pumping into you. His movements are wild and beastlike. He fucks you with reckless abandon, pulling moans and whines from you. You can just barely make out the words he says as he fucks you hard.

“Love this little pussy. It’s all mine. You know it’s mine…”

A cry is ripped from you as you reach your peak violently. Your legs are shaking as you try to stay up. Kenpachi notices how he’s fucked you so hard and you’ve just cum so good that you can’t stay in this position.

With your walls still clenching, he pushes you onto your back. He wraps your legs around his big frame, sliding into you like it’s no big deal. Then he slowly begins rocking his hips, smirking at your reaction. He definitely loves this position much better than the last.

Then he surprises you again. He reaches up to begin cupping your face. He kisses you sloppily; his tongue is violent in your mouth and wrestles with your own tongue harshly. When he pulls away from the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours.

“This world is ugly,” he grunts. “I’m ugly…”

You cry out for him, “N-no…not ugly.”

His heart flutters. “That’s my good girl. You’re my good girl. I need to take you away from all this. This filth isn’t good for my angel.”

He picks up his pace ever so slightly, making sure to rub up against your sweet spot. You cling to him, your nails digging into the meat of his arms. Kenpachi grunts and he laughs softly. More kisses to your lips, then to your neck. You whine when he bites down.

“If I mark you up, then everyone’s going to know you belong to me.” He laughs again. “Then again…nobody but me will ever get to see you again.”

You don’t want to even think too deeply on what he’s saying. You don’t even want to think about how he’s been making you cum so hard. You didn’t even reach for your phone. The cops never even came back. It’s just you and Kenpachi. You realize you don’t even know his name…

Kenpachi nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he pounds into you. You smell so good. Like springtime and linens. It’s his favorite scent. You taste so good; your sweat and nectar is his favorite flavor. And he feels his balls drawing up and his body twitching.

“Be good,” he growls. “Cum for me. Milk this cock.”

You want to finally push out of this trance, but it’s too late. His thumb is rubbing your clit roughly, making you tumble off the edge just once more. It’s all too much. You can see stars speckling your vision as you try to hang on. Kenpachi pounds into you so hard, you swear he’s trying to enter your cervix.

With a loud roar, Kenpachi begins spilling his seed deep inside your waiting womb. You’re barely conscious at this point. Kenpachi kisses you so hungrily as he rides out his high. When he stops moving, this is when he realizes you’ve passed out.

When you wake up, you notice you’re no longer home. You’re sitting on a bed in a dimly lit room. You look at the door, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Kenpachi walks in, his mask on his face. You realize that he wasn’t wearing his mask when he broke into your home. Then it all comes back to you. You thrash around on the bed, but Kenpachi is quick to come over to you. He soothes his hand over your face and hair.

“Shh…I’ve taken you away from the filth, angel.”

His words calm you. With tear stained eyes, you look up at him. You know he did exactly that. He is your savior.

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

#bacon.writes #kenpachi x reader #kenpachi x you #kenpachi x y/n #read the warnings #bleach #bleach x reader #kenpachi zaraki #kenpachi smut

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sweetswesf · 9 months ago

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Hey, hey fam.

These past few weeks I have been onboarding. I let my insecurities get the best of me and didn’t want to take on an assignment early. I was dealing with some imposter syndrome and feeling the weight of being the new person. I felt like all eyes were on this little Black girl and wondering what she was going to do. I wanted to get better acclimated with my new environment and such, but also I was fearful. I’m glad I did take my time though. I extended my onboarding as much as I could and finally got started on my project last week. At first it all felt impossible, especially since my manager set an extremely aggressive timeline for it all (1-2 weeks). My teammates who I consulted about the project all told me it would take AT LEAST 3 weeks. I chatted with my mentor who I’ve mentioned to y’all who has never left my side about my fear and he suggested I ask exactly what I need to do. That encouraged me. It reminded me that I’m not even EXPECTED to know every step. Although I didn’t reach out to ask this, God heard me and a few people reached out directly with resources and help. They knew I was assigned this project and they reached out to part some wisdom and offer their continued support going forward. There was a moment when I couldn’t procrastinate anymore and I had to dive into things (a new language, a new code base, a weird interface, tangled code). I prayed to God to get me through and I felt him saying: one thing at a time. And I’m glad I did…I took one step at a time and soon things started to make sense. After a lot of time invested, I gained some confidence back and started to understand things. I made some code changes and made more progress than I thought. It’s all because I tried to face fear head on. I reminded myself that if God put me in this role, he wasn’t going to rip it away from me. He is with me at every point. If you aren’t convinced He exists, I hope you consider it, because if not for trusting Him, I wouldn’t have this praise report. I’ve written all my coding steps out in my tech spect. My team loves it! So much so, that my manager called my colleague and I his favorites on a call with the rest of the team! That was not appropriate, and made me feel like a target is now on my back from my team, but I was absolutely flattered. Some even DM’d me sharing their praise.

I felt so good I even took a work break and didn’t work after work for the first time in such a long time. I REALLY want to do well. I prayed to excel on the team quickly and I pray that is in God’s plan. I’m so used to struggling on my team no matter how agonizing it was. What was holding me back, no matter my prayers, was my fear and my inability to try as hard as I could. I want to try really hard, and I believe I can shock even myself, and that things will all turn out to be better than I expect, as long as I believe in God, pray for it, fight fear, imagine the best outcome, stop worrying, and trust HIM.

I thank God that He’s disciplined me. I want to also find balance. I haven’t worked out in a while just putting all my focus into delivering early, but I will pray for God’s help to make it a priority.

I pray yall are encouraged to fight fear and work for your wildest dreams as well.

On TOP of that, I work closely with a guy I think is kinda cute! Funny thing: my HRBP referred me to him, I reached out, he was kind, turns out were from the same city, he shared what he was working on, offered to meet with me 1:1 regularly going forward, we got paired in the same working group on our department’s offsite the next week, and then I ended up getting assigned to the project that works closely with what he is building! He doesn’t work in my office but is visiting soon and asked if I wanted to do lunch and whiteboard. I’m looking forward to it! I forget how to eat like a human when I eat in front of someone I like, so I’m going to try hard not to look like a weirdo! He has a girlfriend AND I am not going to entertain relationships nor romance with a colleague. I’ve learned from my past. I’m not even sure if I really like him or if I’m just THIRSTY. Ya girl has been deprived of male courtship for a while lol.

Anywho, I’m super grateful to God and things are going well. I have to stop bracing for impact and just continue to always expect for things to go well and know that if they don’t, it’s for a reason and God has a master plan. God bless yall.

#software engineering #san francisco #silicon valley #coding #women in tech #black in tech #tech #black women in tech #Java #codeblr #christianity #jesus

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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 14 days ago

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Love Until We Freeze Ch.7 Day 6 - Breck/Reader

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ]

Warnings: Dead dove, do not eat. No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, desperate begging, nonconsensual (at first) fingering, threats of assault, manipulation, russian roulette, reader causing violence in self-defense, descriptions of extreme cold and its resulting injuries, sleep deprivation for safety, mentions of suicide and assault, tasering.

Wordcount: 8864

Summary: This was the last straw, you were getting out before it was too late, and no one was going to stop you.

Notes: Very rough start to this one to those who don't like dub/noncon and I mean that even though it eventually does end up as consent, this is still a stockholm syndrome fic after all. Apart from that, when he switches to Snowbunny, he's referring to these, not the other definitions google later told me about :T it's supposed to make the reader feel even more vulnerable and weak, like they're even less in his eyes in this moment instead of something fragile and perfect he can protect.

You waited for freedom, for everything to instantly shatter and let you fly again, but as the seconds passed and all you did was open your eyes, you knew that you’d never be so lucky.

He was shivering above you, his eyes looking over your face as you took in the situation, and even though you still couldn’t move you had feeling enough to be aware of the hard heat pressing into your thigh. He slowly removed the gun from your mouth, his own cracking into a grin before he licked the saliva off the barrel and took out the magazine for you to see. ‘One bullet for him, for breaking the rules and showing you those single moments of kindness; you think I’d bring a loaded gun in here when you hate me so much? I really did think you were smarter than that.’

You couldn’t even speak, you were hot and cold at the same time, your eyes drifting from him to the ceiling as the most powerful relief you’d ever felt in your life washed over you, as well as a despair you couldn’t see yourself ever climbing out of. ‘Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?’ you needed to know, and he set the useless gun down on the bare mattress next to you.

‘Why would I ever want to kill my precious Snowbunny? Especially now that you’ve just admitted how you feel about me?’ He was fucking insane, you knew he was, this wasn’t just a game of waiting for him to crave you enough to strike and run, he was never going to let you go until his tactics worked and you stayed with him, became his of your own volition. ‘Besides, since I am, again, a man of my word, and you made it past midnight, I still need to give you your reward.’

You watched as he crawled backwards down the bed until he was resting between your spread legs, the numbness still strong enough to stop you from closing them, covering yourself, shoving him away. ‘Breck, I don’t want it,’ you tried to tell him, and when he glanced at the gun you actually twitched in pure terror at the thought that he might use it on you again. ‘Please, nonononono, just wait until I can move again, we can do whatever you want, but don’t… fuck, don’t-!’

‘Why wait? This is your reward, not mine,’ he just murmured loud enough for you to hear, his hand running up and down your thigh as he took you in, and when he raised his hand to his lips you could only clench your teeth in terror as he sucked his index and middle fingers into his mouth. A string of saliva connected them to his lips as he removed them, and you felt no desire as he reached down to place the first against your twitching entrance.

‘Wait! Please, use my mouth, you can shove your cock down my throat and fuck me until I pass out if you want, just don’t do this, I’m begging you!’ you cried out, his fingertip circling his desired area as he hungrily gazed up at you with half-lidded eyes.

‘Why, could it be that you’re a virgin?’ he growled, you’d just made it worse, and you knew he’d never stop even as you desperately nodded in a final attempt for him to take pity on you. ‘Fuck… you really are so fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?’ Your eyes shut tight as you bit back a yell, Breck sighing as he pushed into you, felt your last remaining part open up to him, welcome him in, share your heat with him. He let out a shuddering breath just from this much as he pulled out again, pushed back in, forced you to get used to the small intrusion, his palm pressing against you as he found a better angle and started a slow but steady pace.

You just stared at the ceiling as he took what he wanted under the guise of it being for you, your body opening up to him the more he stretched you, and when he found that spot deep inside of you and your breath hitched even amidst the discomfort you wished you had closed your eyes so you would’ve missed the way he bit his lip at the sound of your pleasure. He started to move faster, his legs shifting across the mattress as he moved even closer, and when he found that spot again you actually heard him groan along with you. He aimed for it, watching the twitching muscles in your stomach as your pleasure was forced to build, and when he added in the second and your back arched a little he started to pant, needing more, he needed to give you more.

Your breaths came quicker as he picked up the pace, your eyes finally closing as you heard the sound of his fingers fucking into you and wished that your watcher would press the button again and deafen you for good this time. It was starting to feel good, it’d hurt so much but your body had been craving release ever since he’d held you down in the snow and grinded against you, and it betrayed you as the first moan slipped free. ‘There you go, you’re taking me so good, I knew this was what you wanted,’ he murmured as he leaned forward to lick a stripe up and over your waist, his hand never stilling. You shook your head, thighs trembling as he smirked and nipped at you, the small gasp you let out only making him happier.

He straddled your right leg and rolled his hips, the pain of him scratching all the new wounds taking away from the pleasure before he shushed you, held you down when you started to arch away from the aches, his hand moving faster as he found that spot and aimed hard for it until you saw stars. You’d never been touched like this by another person before, your mountain of excuses to avoid intimacy that you’d been building all your life now avalanching away as he took them from you, your mouth starting to curve from a wince to the starts of a smile as he built up something new inside of you; he told you praises as you started to react in kind, your moans coming more easily as he no longer pried them out of you but encouraged them, begged for them.

‘You’re so good to me, I’m the only one who can make you feel like this,’ he was saying as it all built higher, you weren’t going to last but he’d burned you before, and you didn’t know if you could take it if he left you again. You wanted to beg him not to stop but you were terrified that if you opened your mouth he would, your only coaxing in return the sounds you were gifting to him without end. ‘I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you leave, I had to make you mine…’

He pressed in hard and you keened long from it, you were so close this time, the words threatening to come out until you bit your lip and groaned. An excited breath came from his direction as he picked up speed, fucked you harder, you could hardly stand it, you needed more, you needed to hold him, kiss him, fuck him-

‘Breck…’ you sighed just like you had in the bathroom that night, your hands shaking as they curled into fists, and he only stopped for a moment to cherish it before adding in a third just to be able to feel you more. It was too much, you couldn’t handle it, and when he looked down to see you spread around him he moaned out your name so good that you finally came hard. Your breath caught in your throat as your entire body seized, his hand not stopping until he wrung out every last bit of pleasure from you, it so good that you could barely keep your eyes open after everything else he’d put you through.

‘I can’t… fuck, I can’t wait anymore,’ he said above you as you came down from your high, your afterglow turning into something dark as you looked back down and saw him reaching for his belt. You tried to tell him to wait but your mouth was dry not just from your orgasm but from the growing panic, you knew you’d wanted him in the moment but you didn’t want him to actually have sex with you now, it was too fast, you couldn’t even hold him off as you felt the rope dig into your wrists as more of your feeling came back. ‘Looked so perfect around me, I need to know what you feel like, we’re running outta time, Bunny-’

He popped the button on his pants and yanked down the zipper before you could even blink, you’d begged him so easily before but now the words refused to come, the ringing in your ears returning as he shoved his pants a little down his hips and gripped himself through his briefs; you could already see the damp spot forming from earlier, he wasn’t going to be satisfied with just grinding or jerking off on you this time.

‘I’ll make you feel good, we’ll feel so fucking good-’

‘Breck.’ The door opened as his hand slipped into his briefs so he could take himself out, your breath stilling as he shakily turned to face the Diamond standing there, this one wouldn’t be sent away so easily. ‘You have a message from the Lodge, it’s urgent.’

You watched as he gave himself a slow tug out of sight, his shoulders shaking as he swallowed, his chest heaving dangerously as his eyes grew dark. ‘Can’t it fucking wait?’ he snapped, he was furious, but still, he was no higher than the Diamond in the doorway, and even in your terror-fueled haze you knew that anything from the Lodge was big.

‘No, it’s from Mitch,’ was all he had to say, and Breck took another unsteady breath before removing his hand and fixing himself up. The Diamond didn’t look away from your shame as Breck straightened his sweater and hair, the fingers that were inside you washed off in his mouth before he gave you one final glance and walked out to answer the message, but as soon as his guide was gone he hesitated, leaned back in to say one last thing.

‘No matter what you’re thinking right now, you can’t tell yourself you didn’t want this,’ he said, and you were about to attempt to reply when he motioned to your hands. ‘The ropes were never tied, you could’ve pushed me away the moment you could move again, all you had to do was try.’ Ice ran through you as you turned your heavy head to the side, your hand raising as you saw how limp the ropes actually were, and you felt nauseous as you saw that he was right; they’d faked actually tying the other ends to the frame so you wouldn’t thrash, the moment you had nodded your head at him you could’ve ended it right there, you’d just been so convinced that you’d been restrained that he was right about that too, you didn’t even try. ‘You would’ve let me fuck you, not because I had them stop you from fighting back, but because you wanted it too; you’re mine, and now we both know it, don’t we?’

You let your hand fall back to the mattress as he closed the door again, and when you shut your eyes and tried to hate him more than you hated yourself, you let out a cry as the buzzer rang through the room.

You were in darkness again, but you weren’t lying down or floating or buried, you were sitting.

You felt your mattress under your legs and your headboard against your back, and you were surprisingly calm as the mattress dipped down in front of you and Breck came into view. The diamond on his sweater drew you in like the abyss as you glanced down at his hands, a revolver held up for you to see instead of the black handgun you’d seen earlier. He opened up the cylinder to reveal a single bullet inside, and you just nodded with no fear as he snapped it shut again and spun it.

‘Your family leaves soon,’ he told you as it kept spinning, the sound echoing off the walls around you. ‘You’ve failed all my other tests, so here’s your final one: survive one round with me, try and get out of here, and I’ll let you go.’ You looked down at the cylinder as it just kept spinning, noises coming from around you the longer it went on.

‘There’re no winners in this game,’ you told him, you knew how this worked, and he reached out and took your hand and placed it on the grip over his own.

‘If I kill myself, then you’ll get to leave the mountain,’ he explained, the spinning sounding louder as his eyes looked deep into yours. ‘But if you kill me, then they’ll bury you in the snow with me, I won’t let you leave me even in death.’

‘And if I die then you’ll just add me to the list of others you’ve murdered,’ you breathed, his brown eyes almost black in the dark.

‘If I kill you, or you kill yourself, you know that I won’t win; I need you, Bunny, why do you think you’re still here?’ You looked into the darkness beyond as the spinning grew even louder, it was almost deafening, and his other hand clasped over yours as he didn’t look away from you.

‘You’ll really let me go?’ He nodded, the diamond sucking you in even more as you stared down the barrel. ‘Then I’m ready.’

A light came on above you at once, the other members you’d met standing around you in its weak circle of illumination as they waited to see what would happen, red dots cropping up between and above them, cameras everywhere, you were being watched. You didn’t look at them as the cylinder finally stopped all at once, your ears ringing as he slipped his finger over the trigger; he didn’t fire, just leaned forward so he could lift it to his temple, he wouldn’t use his first shot on you. You swallowed as you were forced to lean forward until you were inches away from him, your mouth falling open just a little as he pulled and heard a click with a twitch of his eye, and then it was your turn. You didn’t aim at yourself, the gun flipped to fit your hand as you pointed it at his chest and fired with another click, and he almost looked hurt over it as it was flipped again and held up to his forehead.

Another click, three shots left.

You quickly aimed at him again, your heart racing as he just waited, and when you heard another click you felt the tears well up in your eyes. ‘It doesn’t work if you only aim at me,’ he said softly before placing the gun in his mouth and firing, another click, last one.

‘You’ll never let me go,’ you whispered as his hands left yours, the gun heavy in your palm as you brought it up to your temple, but he didn’t look pleased about it as he held your free hand in his own, sharing his warmth as the members around you all whispered about how he’d killed another one. Your finger trembled on the trigger as you hesitated, you knew this would be the one, all you had to do was decide if you wanted to fly back home or be buried with him, if you’d rather kill yourself or let them pile the snow on top of you while his lifeless arms held you to his chest as the cold surrounded you, forever sharing the warmth he never had.

‘Why don’t you ever try harder?’ he asked lowly, and you bit back a sob as he crawled over to you, your hand leaving his to grip the center of the diamond and stop it from trying to trap you against him again.

‘I tried so hard,’ you sobbed, but he just shook his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead, your breathing evening out as you felt peace at the touch.

‘I lo-’

BANG.

You startled awake as the buzzer rang through the room, your hearing fully returned as your watcher caught you nodding off and woke you up again, and you grit your teeth so hard your jaw hurt as you felt your tears drying on your cheeks. It was just a dream, none of what he said was real, and you felt so angry at yourself for even pretending like he’d admit to loving you after what he’d just done. You felt sick with yourself at it, you weren’t going to put up with this shit anymore, you knew who he was now.

This was it, you weren’t waiting around anymore, fuck that.

After that you knew that he would actually be the death of you, there was no more doubt about it; even if he knew the gun was empty he’d still killed your Diamond right in front of you just because he’d been sorry about hurting you, had tried to talk to you as he gagged you. He would never see you as a person, just something for him to claim while he pined over the power he thought he deserved, a possession he could hit and beat and fuck while he threw his tantrums and pity parties, and he would kill you with it.

You didn’t get buzzed as you sat up and massaged the rest of the feeling back into your aching limbs, your back sticking to the mattress and causing you more pain, but the feeling of the now cold wetness between your legs from what he’d done propelled you to get up, to move. You took off the ropes and saw the lines left behind to match everything else, just another thread in the tapestry he was weaving over every inch of skin he could get his hands on, and when you went to the bathroom and saw yourself in the mirror you didn’t cry this time. It was bad, it was so fucking bad you felt sick, but you just glared at your reflection and avoided staring at the camera as you turned on the sink to just over lukewarm.

You washed yourself off as gently as you could, clearing away the dried blood and seeing what had torn, the scratches from the fence now buried under everything else. You couldn’t do your back but they allowed you to clean everything else in peace, and when you stood in the shower to let the red run down your back and legs you left the curtain wide open so they could see. You didn’t have any new towels but that was fine, as much as you hated it you were used to the cold of your room now, your body adjusting to it more and more as your wet skin air-dried until you were able to get dressed. No pants, no sweater, just the thick socks and tight, protective clothing for the cryo, your shirt ruined but that was fine, you still had the underwear.

Your mattress looked like a crime scene when you returned, the red and other stains showing what had happened, and you just stared at it before flipping the mattress to the other side and hearing a noise; you peeked under the bed and found a Zippo lighter tucked against the wall, you’d missed it when you’d gotten up, and when you grabbed it and inspected it you found yourself swallowing at the inscription on the side.

To my best friend, my other half, the love of my life,

Mead

This was Breck’s, it must’ve fallen out of his pocket when he was undoing his pants, and you flipped it open to fit the top perfectly against the angry welt on your wrist. Your hands shook as you closed the cap and set it down beside your boots, you wouldn’t use it here, not yet. You went back to the mattress then, it was thin, so both sides were thankfully usable, and you sat back down and waited patiently until the sun rose out of sight, the sound of the key in your lock signaling the arrival of your breakfast. You were wide awake as you stood, the rope quickly picked up and wrapped around your wrist as you kept it out of sight from the camera, and when the Square, Chet, you recognized him instantly, walked in you had just a moment to take your small glass of water and splash it directly into his face.

It surprised him just enough to get him to stumble, your plate taken from him easily as you smashed it into the side of his head; he cried out and covered the injury, you’d cut him on the shattered porcelain, and you counted the seconds as you dragged his head down to your level, raced around to his other side, and wrapped the short rope around his neck. You knew you were being watched, no one hitting the buzzer as an alarm went off in the distance, Chet fighting you until you were able to choke him just enough to knock him out, not kill him, his body falling to the ground before you tore off his sweater and pants and grabbed your gloves, boots, and Breck’s lighter. You didn’t put them on until you reached the garage, the snow not scaring you this time as you quickly yanked everything on and opened all the doors.

You could hear them coming for you as you blocked off their only way in, they’d have to take the long way, and you used your remaining time to grab the firewood axe off of the wall and smash as many ATVs as you could, making sure to give his the worst treatment before gripping your weapon and running out into the white. It was already starting to come down but you were trained for this now, you’d spent so long in cryo that this didn’t actually feel so bad, and you thanked him with a determined smirk before running off in the direction you’d seen the lifts stretch into the distance. The facility was sounding off bells and whistles behind you, you could hear it from the open garage doors since otherwise it’d be too dangerous, and you sickly hoped it would start an avalanche and bury everyone inside, even if it meant it’d bury you too.

You just kept running, sticking to the trees and breathing in the fresh air until it stung, the top of Chet’s sweater pulled up to cover your mouth as protection, your breath wetting the fabric but also providing you with a bit more warmth in the meantime. You used the axe to support yourself, the gloves extra thick and keeping the cold of the steel away from your palm, your heart pounding more and more the further you got away. It wasn’t your exact plan but it’d still worked, you’d gotten out even if you hadn’t been able to thank Breck for everything he’d done to you, you were going home.

You blinked away the tears so they wouldn’t freeze on your face as you kept going, using the angle of the mountain to keep yourself going in what had to at least be somewhat of the right direction, it didn’t have to be exact, just as long as you kept going down in the end. Since it was snowing there might not be anyone out but that was even better for you, that meant no more members guarding the courses, and it’d be the longest walk of your life but you’d chop down a tree and use it as a sled if it meant securing your way back to the hotel.

You froze when you heard the vehicles, of course they had extras, there were so many of them that that was probably just Breck’s own garage, and you ducked behind the low, weighed down branches of a bent over spruce as they grew closer. You held the branches in place, hiding in the shadows as you gripped your axe to your chest, you hadn’t wanted to kill anyone but you would now that you were out, especially Breck if he so much as dared come near you again, if they so much as tried to bring you back you wouldn’t hesitate to stop anyone else either. The ATVs rode until they lost your tracks, the storm was covering them up even with the trees getting more dense here, and they looked around for any sight of you before one of them cupped their hands around their mouth and stood up tall.

‘There’s a blizzard coming, the rains have been too strong downwind and it’s reaching us, that’s what Mitch warned Breck about!’ he yelled despite the danger of the piling snow, and as if on cue the storm picked up a bit more, the clouds dark up above. ‘You need to come back with us or you’ll freeze out here, we can protect you from him, we know what he’s been doing to you!’

You shut your eyes and blocked him out, he couldn’t help, they were all in on it, everyone saw what he’d been doing all week and never said a single word, not even when your Diamond had been carried out of your room on a fucking snow sled for christ’s sake; they were all insane, you had to do this on your own.

‘Please, tell us where you are, this has gone too far, we can bring you down when the storm is over!’

Lies, all lies, they were all liars-

‘Tell him there’s no response, we need to keep looking, we can’t let anyone who knows that much get off this mountain,’ you then heard him say to the person nearest to him, the axe digging into your chest just a little as you dug your fingers into the bark of the tree; you knew it, you were just being tricked again, and once the ATVs were gone and no one was left behind but you you just pounded your fist into the snow and screamed into your hand.

It was getting even darker despite the time, the snow whiting out everything and making you disoriented as you started to sway. You’d been walking for what had to be an hour, avoiding the sound of the vehicles to your left and keeping more to the right, the knowledge that eventually the slope would end and you’d be on flat ground again keeping you going. The bitter wetness of the snow was slowly getting worse than the dry cold of the cryo, it was seeping into your bones and slowing you down as time went on, and no matter how many times you stopped in the cover of the trees and pulled out his lighter to heat yourself back up, you feared that it wouldn’t be enough soon. You weren’t dressed properly for this, not for a blizzard, your unprotected face burning and blotchy as you tried to cover your cheeks with your gloves and only felt the ice that was gathering on the fabric each time you put them back on.

It was impossible to see what lay ahead now, you didn’t know which direction the lifts were in as you just kept going, for all you knew you’d surpassed them and were just heading off into the wilderness, and when what had to be a solid hour of nothing but stinging snow passed you started to course correct to the left, just in case. Either way it still kept going down, and the trees were thick when you needed to hide and take a break, but the lighter was slowly running out of fuel, you were still running on two days of no food or sleep, and your bare ears hurt so bad that you were afraid to touch them in case they broke off like in the movies. The thought nearly made you heave so you kept going, it was your only choice lest you actually did freeze to death out there, this would all be worth it when you finally saw your family again.

You smiled weakly as you imagined their faces when you arrived, pushed through the double doors and collapsed into their arms. Your cousins would want to know all about your harrowing escape, your aunts would dote on you while they stormed the kitchens for warm food, and your father and uncles would get the police to tear this place down for what they’d done. All the while your mother would hold you close like when you were a child and she loved you unconditionally, not like the past few years as you pulled away from everyone, your depression getting worse and your mother only growing fed up with you when she didn’t know how to help.

And then he’d come in, escorted by the cops, the cuffs surely not tight enough as you’d get to hit him back, smash things over his head, let your family beat the shit out of him until he was broken and bruised. And then he’d go to jail, and you’d never have to see him again, you’d be free. You’d go home to the warmth and comfort, clean your apartment up til it was good as new, get yourself fixed up, and wear your battle scars with pride because you’d escaped, you were home, you’d survived.

You didn’t realize you’d collapsed until the cold came back to you hard, your eyes shooting open as you felt the warmth from your vision start to sink in; this was worse than bad, you were so cold that it burned, and you pushed yourself up on shaky arms before testing your fingers to make sure they still worked. They did but it was hard as you pulled out the lighter again, your body protecting it from the wind as you desperately lit the flame once more. It brought a bit of life back to your purple fingers until it finally gave out on you, the last bit of warmth he’d ever give you, and you fought not to cry as you kept flicking the igniter until you gave up. You drew back your arm to throw it, bury his last memento from Mead as your final revenge, but you couldn’t as you shoved it back into your pocket and slapped yourself awake.

You couldn’t fall asleep out here, the moment you did your death would be confirmed, and you’d end up just another skeleton on Everest, another missing person to join the corkboard in the police station back in town.

You pictured what was waiting for you and forced yourself to stand, your knees and ankles weak as they instantly gave out and you fell back down, the snow catching you softly as it threatened to cover you in a thick, warm blanket. You won’t bury me, you thought as you tried again, the axe digging into the ground as you got up, your eyes on the endless sheet ahead of you. I’m not dying on this fucking mountain.

It was hard but you started to walk again, making sure to stick even closer to the trees as you took breaks under each one, your progress slow but it was something, it was one step closer to home. You kept your mouth shut tight as you breathed through your nose, blocking out as much of the cold air from your lungs as you could to save them and your throat, it dry as you swallowed and hurried to the next tree, then the next, until the clearing you reached had you flailing blindly in the white until you found a pole. You looked up, just faintly heard the creaking of metal above as the lifts swayed back and forth, and you coughed out a sob of pure joy as you followed the angle of how they sat and took off.

The course was a straight shot down, you were completely exposed out there but the end was within reach like this, you couldn’t stop no matter how much it hurt. With each step you pictured him hurting you, messing with you, assaulting you, each thing only pushing you to go further, faster, you could not stop. You’d rather die out there than go back to that place, he’d kill you for trying to leave him so if you had to die then you’d choose this, but when a hard breeze caught you in the back and you stumbled you knew that you’d have to make the choice sooner than later. You lost your balance, your brain having just enough time to throw the axe away from you as you covered your head and rolled, the mountain carrying you down again.

You gathered snow as you fell, the course clear for the safety of the skiers and the gathering powder soft and thick, but they still found ways to hurt you as you just kept going, the world flashing quickly by in different shades of white and gray, no sky to break it up under the storm. When you finally stopped you just laid there, no Breck to race down and make sure you were okay, the distant thought to make sure everything still moved only getting further and further away as your axe slid into place next to you, the ice formed around it from the trek stopping it from settling when you’d thrown it.

You reached for it, needing its help so you could stand, you had to be so close by now, you’d been walking forever and falling for just as long, but breathing hurt, your clothes were soaked through and digging ice into your broken skin, you couldn’t get up from this one. You sobbed into the ground and felt the sting worsen, the wetness freezing and making you shut your eyes to save your last moments of vision, you were so close, you had almost made it out, you were so close-! The sound of shoes crunching on snow made you look up again, your body shaking so much from the cold and exhaustion that even just that much nearly made you pass out, and when you saw the heavily dressed man in front of you you just cried, your head sinking into the powder.

You’d know him anywhere, even when the only thing you could see was your warped reflection in his goggles.

Just leave me here, you pleaded mentally as you looked up again, you didn’t know how he’d found you but he did, and he just stared at you as the snow kept falling. I can’t do this anymore, just let me go…

He kneeled down to brush the frozen hair away from your face and even then you couldn’t help but lean into it, and when he removed his glove to touch your cheek it burned hotter than anything else before it. He watched you whimper before putting his glove back on and turning, and he pressed the axe into your hands before standing and waiting to see what you’d do. It was heavier than it’d ever been, your body just as much as you tried again to stand, Breck just giving you space as you just barely were able to do it with the last of your energy, and when you were facing him, panting heavily as the wind and snow tried to knock you back down, he raised his arms and waited for you to make your choice.

You braced yourself and lifted the axe so you could swing, you could end it right here, one hit would be enough for the cold to take him no matter where you got him, and as you stared him down you saw that you were at the bottom of the lifts, the same place he’d first offered you the ride almost a week ago. Despite the pain your tears still fell as you shook your head, begged him not to make you do this in the motion, but he just waited, just like he did in your dream as he stared down the barrel, and you let out a scream for everything as you swung as hard as you could.

The axe slipped from your tired grip as you swung at him, it falling to the ground as you almost did too, Breck unharmed apart from the thin slice across the front of his thick coat where his diamond lay underneath, and he let his arms fall down to his sides as he looked away, so that was what you’d chosen.

You had just a moment to try and run before he was wrapping his arms around you and carrying you towards his ATV, others coming into view as they pulled a hat over your head and a new gag over your mouth, your hands bound again and your legs grabbed as you screamed up to the hotel for help. Your family was in there, they were so close, but you only saw shut blinds as everyone huddled up in warmer places from the cold of the blizzard, no one was coming to help. You were sat on the lap of another member to make sure you didn’t throw yourself out the door as Breck climbed into the driver’s seat, your sobbing not ceasing as he reached for the key and sighed.

He looked like he wanted to say something but he didn’t, if he did you couldn’t hear it behind his ski mask to keep the cold out, and you let yourself fall limp but not sleep as the group of vehicles all roared to life and headed back up the mountain even in the storm.

It took longer this time, everyone knowing the way even though they couldn’t see just like he had that night, and you didn’t fight back as two members carried you inside as he led the way. He didn’t take off anything as you were taken straight to your room, Brit already waiting on the bed and standing when she saw that you were okay, the only genuine kindness out of anyone you’d met so far. She went to speak but stopped when Breck held out his hand, motioned for her to move aside, and she got right to work as you were stripped back down for her to examine.

When his lighter was pulled from your pocket he flinched, and for a moment you wondered if he might say something as he snatched it from the member’s hand; he turned it over before patting his pocket, he didn’t know he’d lost it, but he just glanced at you before putting it back in its place and going back to watching.

The other members left to ditch their outfits as the blizzard threatened to knock out the power, a backup generator surely in place considering the location, and you just allowed her to move you every which way as she took in everything. Breck was still there even now, still fully clothed as he leaned against the doorframe, two nurses coming in to help after a while so you could be lifted, and when she saw your back she actually gasped. She didn’t say anything to him, your bed eventually moved away from the wall so everyone could get to you with more ease, and this time when the needle came out to numb you you just shut your eyes and waited.

It eased the growing pain as your fingers were spread out and wrapped up, the gloves good but not for that amount of time outside, and you saw how the skin had gone from purple to red and raw before everything was covered in more white. Your feet fared better thanks to the thick socks and your boots, but the spaces where the ill-fitting pants had been pushed up were also raw, the same going for your wrists. You were gently held up as Brit applied salve to all of your open wounds, more bandages and gauze coming through the door to cover every bit of evidence up in a ribbon and bow, Breck just watching and not saying a single word.

You bet you would’ve flinched as she then tended to your face and ears, she was extra careful with them as your head was held up and your ears were bandaged, your delicate skin all cleaned up by hands that were a thousand times more caring than his had ever been no matter what he told you or believed. When she was done you were set back down again, a new, warmer blanket brought in to wrap around you while the numbness kept the pain at bay, because once it wore off it would hurt; this would be an agony you’d never known before, one that was all your doing this time, your hands doubled bandaged into mittens so that your fingers could remain straight and heal properly after the cold had tried so hard to crack and break them at each joint.

She only gave Breck a look before she and the others were gone, and he was about to shut the door and sit with you when he stopped, his hand hovering over the wood before clenching into a fist and lowering to the doorknob instead, and he left you there to rot as you went back to staring at the ceiling.

You were forced to stay awake again for your own safety, the buzzer bringing you out of it as your despair only grew. More people came in to tend to you during the day, make sure you got some liquids in you as you were able to move again. It took you a while to notice, but as more things were placed on your bed you realized that your table was now gone, no more temptation to take down the new camera with it absent and your chair destroyed. It didn’t matter, your face hidden under the blanket as you pinned it between your hands and pulled it up, but you only got a moment of that before but it and your pillow were taken, the buzzer thankfully spared this time as the Square took care of the obstruction.

You attempted to curl into a ball but it hurt too much, your knees had suffered a lot during the walk and they were incredibly tender, your only option to keep laying on your back until the thought of someone watching and waiting for you to mess up became too much. You forced yourself to move, sliding inch by inch to the edge of the bed until you could unsteadily lower yourself to the ground, the camera quiet until you pushed yourself into the small space under the bed and basked in your seconds of freedom, there, in the dark.

You expected the buzzer this time but you didn’t move, the bandages made it easier especially when your hands were also pressed over them as softly as you could, and when the door opened you expected to be dragged out again. The mattress was instead flipped onto the floor, bloody side up, before your bed frame was carried out and into the hall, no more spaces to hide. The door slammed and you pulled yourself back onto the mattress and off the bitter tile, no strength to flip it back over as you laid there in the middle of the room and cried.

You had to be fed when dinner came, the sight of plain, canned, crackerless chicken noodle soup bringing you little comfort as the spoon was lifted to your mouth. You felt like a child, the woman currently helping you looking nothing like your mother as she fed you since your hands were useless, your eyes empty as you gulped down the warm meal until your stomach complained a little less. She placed a straw in the bowl so you could drink the broth once the chicken and noodles were eaten, and you licked your horribly cracked lips before she did the same to your glass of water. It was cold, but the cold was everywhere, this would make no difference to you.

You didn't miss her presence when she left too, the small amount of food not settling as well as you'd hoped as it just sat in your stomach, the nausea mixing in with everything else and just making you wish you could just fall asleep and wake up when it was all over. You tried again to sleep and got the buzzer, and when the voice on the other side quickly apologized you just motioned in the camera's direction, you knew this one wasn't supposed to be a punishment. Still, just waiting by yourself was lonely this time after spending so much time around him, and with him still not visiting you yet you felt the emptiness of the room from every corner.

‘Hey,’ you muttered to the ceiling, no one responding, ‘is he there?’

Silence, and then, ‘No.’

‘Is that true?’

‘Yes, don't interact with the camera.’ A pause. ‘Please.’

You swallowed, your lip already quivering. ‘Can you find him?’

An even longer pause this time. ‘No. I won't ask again.’

You closed your eyes as a tear fell, and your fingers twitched as you tried not to make fists and wreck them even more. ‘Please,’ you asked the camera, no response coming this time. ‘I don't… I don't want to be alone…’

More silence, and then your light went out as you went to ask again, the darkness enveloping you before a strobing light from the camera trapped you in the flashing. You instantly felt disoriented, the room spinning as the lights triggered your slight epilepsy; you froze as you were forced into an almost trance, vertigo taking over and silencing you so absolutely that even when it stopped and your light came back on you couldn’t even make a noise. You got it, no more talking allowed as you attempted to blink away the flashing burned into your eyes and painfully rolled onto your chest, your head still spinning as you wept into the mattress.

More Squares came in a few hours later, your body completely stiff as you stared listlessly at the dust that'd gathered under your bed. They didn't speak as they picked you up and carefully brought you to the bathroom, your hands covered in plastic bags to keep them dry. One of them sat behind you to help you stay upright as the other worked the nozzle, and the only thing you could do was think of him as they changed your bandages and cleaned you up now that you were adjusted to the temperature again. They were so gentle with you this time, no more punishment in order since you'd technically passed his test, your current state was punishment enough, and the kindness along with missing the way he'd done this to you made your shoulders shake as they wiped the water away from your eyes and reapplied the salve Brit had given them.

You didn't thank them when they were done, didn't want to get anyone else killed, just stayed silent as they set you back down on your bed and walked out again. You didn't know how late it was but you doubted you'd be able to sleep anyway, the chill so ingrained into you that you didn't even feel it anymore as you lost that way to keep yourself awake. You wanted so badly to talk to the camera again, and you let the loneliness creep in from everywhere until you couldn't hold it in any longer.

‘Breck? Are you there?’ No answer, but no buzzer either. ‘I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- you once asked me if I was afraid of you, and if I thought that you'd do something to me.’ You pictured him standing there, just listening beside you, because the thought of saying all this to just your current watcher was too much to bear, you needed him to hear it too. ‘Even though I tried to kill myself, I was so afraid… when I thought that you were gunna-’ You sucked in a sharp breath, still feeling the gun in your mouth and how excited he'd been over it even though he knew it was unloaded, just because you'd given him the exact reactions he'd wanted. ‘And then, when you almost- you make me hate myself, because every single time I start to understand what you mean about happiness, you do something like that and I can't figure out if you love me or if you despise me.’

You laid your arm over your eyes as you sniffed, the Breck in your mind sitting down next to your mattress, and you reached for him even though you knew he wasn't there.

‘Why couldn't you just let me go? You said you wouldn't hesitate, you could've let me freeze out there and moved onto the next, just like the last one. You’ve already convinced me I'm nothing, I know that I am, no one even came to find me, I was here the whole time and no one…’ You grit your teeth and felt your lip split, the cold had put them in such a bad shape but you didn't even feel it, you couldn’t feel anything anymore. ‘I want to know how to be happy, I can’t remember how that feels, and I haven’t for such a long time, so please just… come in and make me feel something again, Breck, you already know I don’t care if it kills me, I don’t wanna feel like this anymore, I don’t wanna be alone, so please-!’

No response.

No buzzer.

No confirmation if anyone was even watching as the red light blinked steadily down at you, your reflection the only one to meet your eye.

‘Answer me!’ you yelled as loud as you could, your voice echoing off of your empty room now that all you owned was the dirty mattress you were laying on.

The door opened and you instantly sat up even though it nearly made you pass out, your wide, hopeful eyes narrowing in sheer disappointment when you saw that it was just Chet, a ring around his throat and a bandage on his temple where you’d hit him. He looked angry at you, you’d really hurt him, but the anger faded as he glanced at the camera and stepped in, the door locking behind him. He didn’t speak, it was too dangerous, just sat down across from you on the mattress and placed something between you. You looked down to see a taser, harshly black against your messes, and when you looked at him you knew what was coming.

His eyes flicked up and to the right towards the camera behind him, he was probably already on thin ice for letting you not only get to a phone but to escape, and you didn’t even attempt to try and grab it with your mitts as he picked it back up, apologized with his eyes, and jammed it into your stomach.

Instantly you retched as your body seized, the little food in your stomach threatening to rise as he counted under his breath and pulled back. You collapsed back against the mattress, your eyes unfocused as your stomach muscles twitched, you could still feel it, your breath refusing to come as you choked on air. ‘Don’t interact with the camera again. Chet will be watching until dawn,’ your watcher said, a new voice from last time, and even though it hurt and it would keep you awake, nevermind the fact that this could kill you in the process, you just laid there and silently thanked him for the company.

‘What… time is it…?’ you whispered carefully between breaths, your mouth moving so little that the camera wouldn’t see no matter the resolution, and when he pretended to check your pulse he allowed his sleeve to raise just enough for you to get a glimpse of his watch, your first real tell of the time since your arrival.

8:49PM.

You closed your eyes and tried to imagine lasting the next nine hours, and when the buzzer went off again to wake you, you felt the electricity shoot through you again as he was forced to join in for as long as it screamed down at you.

#Ray's Readers #Breck Montanari x Reader

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autisticsupervillain · 2 years ago

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Tavros Nitram vs Taylor Hebert needs to be a Death Battle: A Thread

Thematic Connections:

Two teenagers with the power to telepathically control animals who lives were radically changed by one particular case of abuse and bullying gone to far. (Vriska breaking Tavros's legs for Tav, and the locker incident causing Taylor's trigger event for Taylor)

Said torment continues for a large chunk of their adolescent lives, with both characters receiving little respite and few supporters (aside from their dads, who are powerless to help)

While both characters started out as heroic and optimistic, both wind up falling from grace as a result of their culminated trauma. (Taylor slowly becoming a supervillain as the story progresses and Tavros developing Stockholm Syndrom for Vriska).

Both characters wind up leading an army to combat a god in the face of the end of the world. (Tavros forming an army that dwarfs Vriska's to fight Lord English and Taylor controlling an army of capes to battle Scion)

Debatability

This is suprisingly very debatable. Assuming it's the base forms for both, then Tavros should outstat considerably (him surviving his trip to Alternia on the back of a falling meteor is far more physically impressive than anything Taylor herself has done and scaling off the other trolls, he should be slightly faster too) and his animal telepathy should be generally better (both because it can control all members of the animal kingdom and because it has the range to control beings in other universes)

However, Taylor is considerably smarter and more tactical, so she should be smart enough to plan around these disadvantages. (Durability doesn't help if you're choking on poisonous bugs) Furthermore, her powers can control more bugs at a time than Tavros can, so even if Tav turns some of her bugs against her, she'd still have some on her side to defend herself with.

Ultimately, I'd probably give this to Tavros? None of his advantages are insurmountable on their own (the flying wheelchair can be dealt with by gunking up its components. Tav's wider variety of animals can be matched by her usual tactics when fighting stronger opponents, allowing her to take out bears and the like by poisoning them with her insects and other such tactics.) but the fact that they all stack on top of each other makes this a rough time for Skitter. It's hard to pin down a faster, flying opponent that you can't directly hurt when you have to deal with bears, wolves, and bits of your own swarm at the same time. Doubly so when considering that Tav's absurd telepathic range would let him utilize any animal in the city when convenient, giving Skitter little place to hide or plan. That said, Taylor tends to work best in unwinnable circumstances.

The verdict changes wildly depending on what you give them. If both sides have absolutely everything, then Gcatavrosprite thinks her out of existence before she can think to ready the Interdimensional Ram, but Khepri vs base Tavros is just as big a stomp. Base to base is probably the most debatable version this fight.

Interactions:

Given how connected Taylor is to most of her bugs, I do kinda wonder if Tavros attempting to control them would allow the two to banter? It could create an interesting dynamic, especially given the whole "sorry I have to do this" attitude that both would be carrying throughout.

I feel like this fight should probably be set at a zoo, as it plays naturally into their powers and could set up some cool exchanges.

The fight should start either because Tav got caught up in some of Taylor's villainous antics or because of some kind of misunderstanding. Taylor's already been mistaken for a villain while acting as a hero before, thanks to her powers and costume, and Tavros is a vaguely demonic humanoid with sharp teeth and giant horns, so a misunderstanding wouldn't be too difficult to set up if done right. It should probably be the latter, because the former would raise the question of why the Undersiders or Taylor's followers don't step in to help.

Now if this were to actually be a Death Battle, we'd have to somehow contrive a way for these characters to kill each other. Because simply put, they probably wouldn't in most circumstances. While Taylor is ruthless, she's very rarely willing to commit outright murder outside of very extreme circumstances and Tavros is even less willing. You could make the kill accidental, but that runs the risk of feeling pretty insulting to the loser. Death Battle kinda has this issue a lot.

I kinda like the idea that both characters would get more and more ruthless as the fight escalates, before immediately feeling remorseful and horrified when the kill actually happens. It'd be a good way to reflect their in story character development.

So, yeah, expect to see this as an FTF eventually.

#fictional throwdown fridays #death battle #worm #taylor hebert #homestuck #tavros nitram

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yuriswitch · 1 year ago

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there's this one thing that's been bothering us particularly badly as of late, and it's this recent surge in "normal people" going out of their way to mark all evildoers as "abnormal". It's far from the first time we encountered that kind of behavior, and we more or less get why so many people say things like "he's not a real christian" or "she's not a real mother" or "how sick do you have to be to do something like that" or "you have to be abnormal" and so on and so forth, especially when put in front of a shocking news of a particularly gruesome murder or something equally drastic.

It's uncomfortable, and hard to imagine yourself doing that, but you still see a person looking like any other, with all the outward features of a human just like you. I'm not really surprised, that when faced with someone that looks similar enough to them to count as a human, most people immediately separate themselves out by making up some sort of a "difference" major enough for them to be able to re-categorize this uncomfortably human-looking person as an inhumane monster. Completely outside of the realm of "normal people".

The problem is, that what that essentially does is create this assumption that harm is some sort of a symptom of "not being me enough syndrome" that ought to be treated in some way, or at least dealt with by means of isolation. This often involves throwing insults, accusations or otherwise asserting that the perpetrator must be mentally ill, or disabled, or an Arab or whatever is considered too far away from "normal"

On one hand, this is just another way normal people balance out the desire to be the only thing X in existence (something that we might as well call the "oneness perversion") with the need to recognize and react to any signs of something or someone unusual. Everyone is supposedly the same person, but depending on the degree of "deviation", weirdos like us either have a "sickness" that they believe they can "heal" (thus eliminating that pesky differentness) or don't even count as a human at all.

At the same time, doing this reassures the normals, that they will never have to assume responsibility for anything serious, because they're not "off enough" to do anything other than a minor, forgettable offense. And the way this interacts with both big events like the rise of fascism, with millions of people asserting that the fascists were all abnormal mental monsters from hell, and smaller more personal moments like "mommy loves you so she'd never do something like that" in response to us trying to tell her to stop doing something like that, is a major issue that could potentially result in yet another tragedy.

Unfortunately, the normals would have to acknowledge their capability to commit any harm imaginable and unimaginable, but most of them still seem to prefer comfort at our cost than any conscious effort to change and be a better person. And there's something really shitty about so many people immediately diagnosing all sorts of people from J.K.Rowling all the way to Adolf Hitler (admittedly it's not a particularly long way, but still) with all sorts of mental illnesses - schizophrenia, bpd, psychopathy, narcissism, even low libido and high libido for some reason.

This is really frustrating, because it's the everyday Joes of 20th century Germany that did the Holocaust. It's the standard view havers that radicalized so far right, that tried to do colonialism in Europe, and that were already okay with the concept enough to consider applying it to the "Wild East" as they called Eastern Europe in direct reference to the so called "Wild West" in America.

The serial killers and psychopaths and all the black characters that normals whiten themselves with were busy mentally breaking the fuck down from another day of burning the corpses of all the "abnormals" the nazis were exterminating on a mass scale. It's all wife-loving, dog-having, typical, everyday people that committed all of these atrocities, and we, the undesirables, were their primary targets of removal and eventually extermination. And it's high time the general public admits that and recognizes their own ability to do all evil, including the most disturbing and extreme of acts. If they can't do that, then we will all be doomed one day. Mind my words.

/Yui

#neurodivergent #normal people #evil #rant #cw: genocide #cw: ableism #mental illness

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aplaceforsecrets · 2 years ago

Note

12, 24, 28, and 33?

12. Edging or overstim?

Edging. I love overstim, especially the idea of overstimulating a partner until they're crying and begging for me to stop, but I much prefer edging my partners until they're just stupid with need, and then, you know... not letting them come. (Ideally. If they're into that, of course.) A personal favorite of mine is to make my partners beg to not come :) I love coming up with reasons that they shouldn't come, and then making them beg me to deny them before I let them stop touching themselves :))

(I might be a little bit of a monster.)

24. What kind of nudes are your favorite?

I'm so easy, you have no idea XD Uhmmmm

The kind taken for me? XD Orrrr you know, nudes with some bdsm... stuff. Like redness or marks (all the better of they're because of me), or in poses like on their knees, or their mouth open with their tongue out, that kind of thing XD

But really I cannot overstate how much I like all kinds of nudes, just in and of themselves XD

(A naked hot person! Being shown to me!)

(!!!)

28. How do you feel about pain, either giving or receiving?

Giving: I love it. So much. Number two kink, after like, d/s more generally. I love making people hurt just so, so much. Makes me lowkey feel like I'm going out of my mind. One of the kinks I have that I need to be careful with because my love of pain is fairly unbounded, so I need to be careful and actually pay attention to my partner instead of my own libido so I don't make them safeword or (much worse) go over their limits. But yes, god, I love pain so much. All kinds: impact play ~everywhere, genital/tit torture with things like clothespins and nipple clamps and weights, sensation play like tiger balm/menthol/peppermint oil/stinging nettles on... various places, predicament bondage with bits tied to other bits, large object insertion, face slapping, electrostim, gosh, am I missed anything? I must be. If it's something that doesn't break the skin or permanently mark someone, I probably love it XD

I have no idea why but just hhhhhhhh

Receiving: Eh. I've bottomed for impact play twice now, and my official stance is like... "this sucks" XD Not like, hugely, triggeringly sucks. Just like, sucks. Not a fan of pain.

33. How far out does your cnc kink extend?

Depends on how we're talking. For now at least, I don't think I'm comfortable topping a cnc scene. I'm so scared about hurting my partner, them (pretending) to resist and suffer would probably trigger me badly enough I'd need to safeword out. For the same reason, fantasies of topping a cnc scene also isn't something I'm super interested.

But if we're talking in like, fiction? Like.... pretty far! Like, I'm talking the c-less, never-c kind of cnc. Honestly, I might even prefer that to the like... stockholm syndrome kind? Abduction, blackmail, enslavement, non-consensual body modification, all the hardest kinks on a captive...

I guess actually, here are some things I really don't like in cnc stories:

drug-based cnc. So like, for abductions, slipping something into the other person's drink is a bit :|| And sexual acts on a drugged-unconscious captive is a serious turn off. (Aphrodisiacs and sex pollen kind of stuff is a big plus)

use of the word "rape". I just... cannot handle that at all.

things that resemble real world domestic abuse too closely (hard to describe, but I know it when I see it)

beating someone up (like literally punching or kicking them in the face or the side, that kind of thing)

male tops (double-standard, I know). Not 100% of the time, but def puts it on the edge for me

penetrative sex when the bottom isn't aroused by it

Such a weird, finicky looking list, really >.>

But yeah, as an example, this story is like So CNC, but is still a favorite:

#<333 #thanks for the ask!#cnc mention #cnc tw #mine

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madelinetess · 1 year ago

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Okay, story time!

My brother is disabled, has been since birth. It's a genetic defect called Reclinghausen's syndrome and it presented mostly in his right leg. The first time he broke it when he was about two years old, maybe younger. I don't remember that, I was only six... But it has been hard on the entire family. My mom stayed at the hospital with him, and my grandparents took care of me when my dad was a work.

He had over 7 different surgeries and procedures. A steel rod inserted into his bone, then the same rod was removed, then he had another one inserted, this time it was specialistic so that it would sort of grow with the bone... Lot's of complicated stuff.

Said leg is shorter and needs a specialistic brace. And vecause he is growing it needs to be replaced after about a year. This year it cost over $3000 (my estimation, the currency in my home country is not dollars) and that is not the only thing we need for him to actually be able to do stuff. He needs shoes, and it's hard to get ones that fit his foot with the brace, he needs a special cloth to wear underneath to avoid being hurt by wearing it too much. His god damn pants get destroyed easier, because of the friction in weird places... This consumes a lot of money and we are not that wealthy (like middle class or sth, I don't have a great frame of reference) The petrol to drive him to all his appointments to get the thing made right for his measurements... it has a specific type of screw so if it gets damaged or lost you need to order it especially, can't just substitute...

My country has a national fund for medicine and equipment etc, but there are certain limits and since my brothers specialistic brace falls into the regular brace cathegory which means that he gets as much money as people who twisted their ankle and need a short lived one. He needs a new one every year and they get more and more expensive. How much does he get? Slightly above $100. A 1/30 of the cost...

This year my mom decided to apply for additional money from the city fund and their reply was along the lines of "While you do fullfill all the conditions, we've run out of money" They shouldn't have, there should have been funds set aside (that is not just me complaining, that is the actual way it should be working)

And that's just about the money, but the way he is treated sometimes? It gets your blood boiling. He is an athlete, he is actually in the national sports team for Paracanoeing. And his own coach (from his original club where he trains normally) treats him as a worthless athlete and gives him scrap equipment. He said himself that handicap sports don't interest him. I'm not really onvested in that part of my brother's life but I do hear about the drama.

There are so many issues, with the funds, the hospitals, the freaking people... And I am not even the disabled person, I just live in one house with one... I never see my parents break down, but I hear from my grandparents about it sometimes when I stay over at their flat. I hear stories about how my dad cried when my brother was born, because the doctors took him from my mom to another room to run some tests...

I remember my baby brother crawling around our garden with his leg in a cast, I remember the second time he broke his leg, because I was there when it happened, I remember him screaming during the night when he hit a growth spurt because his leg was growing and it hurt...

Sometimes I wish that there was a disabled person in every family so that the system may change for the better, because eveyone would face the same problem, but then I catch myself and think that I am basically wishing hardship on other people...

Disabled people shouldn't have to jump through hoops!!

#I got plenty more stories #It is not a one off thing #It fucking sucks

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dendro-darling · 2 years ago

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No because @iinmysights rb'd my post about eldest daughter syndrome dick and they mentioned dick going to jason for comfort every once in a while and now I'm having feelings.

Because Dick never had anyone he could vent to fully. He had friends, he had Barbara, he had Donna, he had Kori, but he never really tells any of them everything from what I've seen. Because in the titans, whatever he did would reflect back on Bruce, and he couldn't possibly let anything negative reflect back on Batman. That just wouldn't do.

So where does that leave Dick? Especially after Wally, one of his best friends if not THE best friend, isn't in the picture anymore? Where does that leave Dick, who has gone through so much and lost so much, when he feels like there's nowhere else to turn? Where does that leave Dick, when he doesn't want to burden Donna? Or anyone else?

Imagine the surprise when Dick reaches out. Not because Jason doesn't care, but because he doesn't expect it. He thinks he's the last person Dick would reach out to, even though it's happened in the past. He thinks, in his mind, that Dick would reach out to literally anyone else.

But he reaches for Jason. He shows up, unannounced, at the unmarked safehouse Jason is using. He's on the border between Gotham and Blüdhaven, hiding out and letting the heat drop off before he steps foot outside again. And here's Dick Grayson, the legend behind Nightwing himself, asking to come in.

Jason let's him, brings him in before the storm can roll through him too hard. Dick sits on his couch, Jason offers him some of his shitty takeout, and Dick rags on him for preferring spring rolls over noodles. Jason distracts him, makes jokes and rags on how he's still wearing the same fucking Beatles shirt he's had since 1993.

It's comforting. Jason fills the silence, he listens when Dick starts to break. Jason doesn't expect perfection. He doesn't expect Dick to articulate everything, doesn't expect Dick to crack wise and account for everyone else. Jason just let's Dick breathe, and they work it out together late into the night until Dick has spilled his guts and feels exhausted, face stained with tears from the sheer force of the emotional bomb that went off inside his body.

Dick apologizes for exploding like that, for being a mess. Jason shrugs, makes a distasteful joke about being used to bombs, and Dick ends up leaving with the sunrise. Jason picks up empty containers from the takeout, ignores the way his stomach growls because he let Dick eat what he bought for himself. He doesn't mind.

If nothing else, Jason takes comfort in knowing that when things fall through, Dick knows he can lean on him. After all, when everyone else turns to Dick, it's a pretty important gig being the one Dick turns to.

#theyre brothers and i love them #this is pretty much all i had the energy for so please be kind to me rn lmao but this has been rummaging #in my head like a raccoon in the trashcan for a while now #jason todd #dick grayson #im screamin im cryin dick graysons eldest daughter syndrome is very personal to me #and him turning to jason in his time of need shot my knees out and ive been laying on the floor crying over it #because i love that for them so much #i know he had donna too but like dico grayson would rather die than tall about his problems #cainscontent

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years ago

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Spider’s Thread [Reverse AU]

Possessive Red Xiao x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Commissioned for: @profoundwitchsalad

Art Credit: @ruoyeahs

Warning: Unhealthy relationships.

Prompt:

“You’ve ruined my life because I have a warped idea of what love is and I can’t live without you. But now you’re trying to leave me and I won’t allow that. You left me alive. You have a duty to live for me and by me. I’m not letting you go.”

---

Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ] [ Opposites Attract ] [ String Of Fate (Soulmate) ] [ Fainting ]

Link to original posts: [Red! Xiao.] [Reverse AU]

[Masterlist]

Alatus was once told a story by his Master. A sinner who falls into hell is rewarded for his only good deed, choosing not to kill a spider. As his reward, a thread is lowered down for him to climb out of Hell. In the end, the sinner remains in Hell because he kicks aside others and the thread breaks. Alatus doesn't remember why his Master told him this story but he still empathizes with the sinner. He would have done the same or asked for this 'saviour' to extend their hand down instead. That way he could pull them down.

"Xiao? Are you okay?"

He slowly opens his jade eyes to see you hunch over, peering down above him, eyebrows furrowed together in concern as you reach down and softly tap his temple. He allows you to take a moment to do whatever you want with his face before he reaches up to grasp at your wrist gently, holding back on his want to rub circles into your skin. His reminiscing can wait for now.

"What is it?" he asks curtly, sitting up and resting his elbow on his raised knee. You pout at his curt tone but shrug it off as you take a seat next to him and lean your shoulder against his. You dig into your bag and pull out slips of commission papers and hand it over to him to read through what needed to be done today. A few Hilichurl camps needed to be taken care of, sabotaging a slime balloon, all tasks that seem mundane to someone who fought in a war. As he's preoccupied, you take a moment to look at Xiao's face. He's just the slightest bit unnerved whenever you do this because you always seem to know what's bothering someone.

"Were you dreaming of her again?" you ask quietly. The silence is a good enough answer but you nod understandingly. You never knew his Master personally but you did fight a long strenuous battle against her. From one look you could tell she was a manipulative and cruel woman. While it may not be very kind to say, you were glad that with her passing, Xiao would be free from her physically. But mentally...there were still some things to work out. But Xiao was a very reclusive person, especially with his emotions, so pushing him any further would only make him irritated and closed off.

"Venti and Zhongli are joining our party for a bit if that’s alright. They'll help out a lot with our commissions and travelling. I like Liyue a lot but climbing mountains stresses my shoulders out," you laugh as you change the subject to something less depressing. Standing up as you dust your clothes off before turning to Xiao and holding your hand out for him to take. He stares at it hard for a few moments before huffing and reaching over to clasp your hands together.

It has been so frustratingly peaceful since the war ended. He's not used to it and he can still feel the lick of cutting winds and the heavy pressure of rocks against his body when he sees the bard and funeral parlor consultant just on the horizon. If it were up to him, he wouldn't play nice with these two Archons but they're important to you so he bites his tongue until he tastes blood. He knows the Archons do the same. As soon as the two of them spot you both, Venti is already rushing and tackling you to the ground in his excitement.

"Traveler! I haven't seen you in ages. You need to come and visit Mondstadt more," Venti cried into your shoulder as you awkwardly patted him on his back. Always with the dramatics but you cared about Venti all the same. Xiao scoffed before flicking his jade eyes to meet gold as Zhongli stared down at him cautiously. Since the war ended, everyone seemed to have this warped idea that Alatus had some vendetta against the Gods and Celestia but he was fighting because he was told to.

"Xiao. It's good to see you again," Zhongli said to him. Xiao just nodded in acknowledgement. Even with this new mortal form, Morax never bothered to change his eyes. His gaze alone held the weight of the mountains he had thrown. If Xiao hadn’t been under one of them before, he might have crumbled under the pressure.

"Alright alright, Venti. I promise I'll drop by sometime this month but we still have commissions to do!" you laugh as you haul the bard onto his feet and swat his cape down from the speckles of dirt. He grins cheekily at you, linking pinkies with you to seal your promise, before suddenly lighting up as if he just remembered something.

"Actually! Before we start anything, I need to speak to Mr. Zhongli and Xiao. Super important archon things, you know?" Venti nodded to himself as the two mentioned people stared at him with varying levels of confusion. But Venti just waved their worries off and linked his arms with both men as he dragged them off to a more secluded corner with a surprising amount of strength, “We’ll be right back!”

"Do what you need to do but don't take too long," you called after the trio as you trailed off to the side, messing with your bag of commission papers and gear. Xiao hated that. He knows that these two Archons are your...friends.. but shouldn't you be a bit more cautious? Just because they have mortal forms doesn’t make them human, it doesn’t make him human either.

"Hey, there's no need to look so scary. There really is something important I wanted to talk to the two of you about," Venti speaks up as soon as you're out of earshot. It still gives Xiao whiplash whenever he drops the persona and switches back to Barbatos. "Since Morax is the only Archon I trust with this information and, while I don't trust you one bit, you're the one that's with her all the time you should also know. She's ascending to Celestia."

Barbatos gauges both of their reactions. Morax seems visibly surprised, his eyes slightly widened a fraction, while Xiao has no idea what that means. His Master didn’t exactly give him a history lesson on Celestia or Archons, just pointed to who was his enemy and dealt punishments when he failed.

"And what the hell does that mean?" Xiao asks as he crosses his arms. Venti appears for a second as the bard pouts before continuing.

"It's like I said. A mortal who performs great, heroic feats can ascend to Celestia and achieve godhood. Where they will watch over their people from above. I've only seen this once before so it took me a while to recognize the signs. But 1000 years ago, I helped a woman named Vennessa with her ascension and with the traveler's recent actions with winning the war. Well, you don't need me to explain the rest," Barbatos finishes. Zhongli simply hums as he cups his chin and absorbs what's just been heard. He doesn’t seem troubled by the news at all.

"Have you told her about this?" Zhongli questions as he looks towards the direction that you left. Venti shakes his head. “That would mean that she would vanish from this world."

“I know she loves this world. Whether she wishes to ascend or not isn’t my choice but I want her to continue her travels with that beloved smile on her face. But if she does choose to ascend, she will need our help," Venti stares at the two of them in a mix of pride, sadness, and determination. "Can I count on you two for your help?"

It's a complete white noise in Xiao's ears as his surroundings fade out. He thinks he can see Zhongli nod to Venti wishes, the ever calm smile on his face to match the cheery grin on Venti’s. What, now you want to become a God? Leave this world behind? That’s not funny. You made him give up everything. While in your eyes, your blinded hero syndrome, you think you've liberated him from a soulless conquest but he still has nothing. You still took everything away from him and your only compensation was to have him by your side until he left himself. But now you want to leave without a warning? That’s not fair. You don’t get to take back what you owe. He won't allow you to leave him behind.

“Did something happen? Did Venti say something unnecessary again?” you ask out of the blue. Zhongli and Venti had returned to their respective regions once your commissions were all finished. Since the three of them disappeared to talk Archon business, Xiao had seemed even more tense and aloof than usual. As if he was out of it? You knew that everyone was still suspicious of Xiao and they were angsty to leave you alone with him, but you knew Xiao would never do anything to hurt you. When he doesn't answer, you slowly reach over and you subtly nudge his head up onto your lap and look at him curiously. Before reaching down and cupping his cheek. He leans into your touch before turning his face into your palm and leaving a soft kiss. It makes you giggle at the ticklish feeling as you look at him so softly. It annoys him.

"You were never connected to the war and yet you fought against us anyways. Even when I killed so many people, why did you choose to spare me?" he asked as you blinked at him before giving it some serious thought. He went on a rampage and almost destroyed the world. It was fun. He doesn't have any regrets at all because he hated humanity. His own Master was human after all. But then you appeared and stopped him. A random outsider that wanted to play the hero. He thought it was cute. Perhaps he had underestimated the lengths someone would go to to save the world they loved but when he fell defeated at your feet. He said that this wouldn't change a single thing. He would still scorn humanity and what they did to him. He was so sure he would die there but you chose to extend your hand down to him instead despite what your companions felt. Even when the war ended and he had nowhere else to go, you offered him to travel with you. Nothing changed about his mentality, every person that chose to talk to him was quickly scared away with piercing eyes. Every conversation started would end in silence. Every touch would be met by the tip of his spear. But you would link your hands together with his and smile brightly, and he would always end up forgetting his trauma for a moment. You’ve... become precious to him.

"I love this world and everyone in it. You are a part of that world even if you tried to destroy it. It...didn't seem fair to leave you behind when you've suffered just as much," you finish but it only seemed to spark a wave of deep anger inside of Xiao. He quickly lurched up, almost knocking your forehead with his, before grabbing the scruff of your shirt collar and yanking you forward.

"Cut it out with that "love of everything" crap. It's revolting. So you're saying the people I killed weren't worth avenging? Do you think I'm so weak that I need protection? It's one thing to try and please everyone but at least have some awareness would you?" he snarled as he pushed you to the ground. He knew he was being harsh on you and you had every right to walk out and abandon him but you didn't. Of course, you wouldn't. You needed him as much as he needed you. You just reached over and tenderly reached your hand and placed it next to his. Damn it, why is he always the one stuck worrying about you.

"Then you want to protect me, right? Then don't break your promise. You left me alive which means you have a duty to live for me," he takes your hand in his and squeezes hard. Digging his nails into your own until crescents appear and tiny specks of blood appear so you know he's serious. He doesn't care how you interpret his words, just so long as you never leave him.

"Don't die on me, Hero."

It's been a few hours since the conversation so it's pitch black outside but Xiao was never one to sleep. Even if he could, his mind is too loud to fall asleep too. He's startled when you melt against him fully asleep. Honey smooth as you curl up to his warmth and cling to him like moss to a rock. He can feel his cheeks start to flush as his heart begins to pound against his chest. He can't breathe as his world is filtered through each beat that drums against his ears. He's not sure if there's actually something wrong with him or if it's just been a while since someone got so close and his instincts haven't left.

He's just realized it. He's feeling pain. The feeling in his chest is black but he can't claw it away. It's strange in a way that he can't explain it, that he's never felt before, that he's never felt the need to experience. His life had been warped by battle and a constant push to submit to his Master. They are all things he knows but the gentle words that come from your mouth, the bright eyes that hold the world, the horrible ice-hot feeling inside of him is so foreign yet too easy. He doesn't like it.

It makes him feel...clean in a way. Enlightened perhaps? His Master is long gone and it's like you said. He's free now. Free to make his own decisions and live his life how he wants to. He carefully turns over so as to not startle you away as he really looks at you. You look so peaceful in his arms, eyelids shut without worry, face slack without nightmares, breathing so softly against him. If you weren't so close to him that he couldn't feel the rise of your chest, he wonders if he would think you were dead. He stares at the lock of hair swaying back and forth with each breath like a starved man. The strange feeling doesn't stop. He hates it. It's everything that goes against him and what he knows and everything he should want. He's supposed to be the villain in your story, he should kill you right now-

"Xiao..." he hears you mumble beside him as you lean further into his arm. Damn it. How low is he going to go?

“What are you thinking about now? You just need to think about me. Don’t think about anything else...but me” Xiao sighs before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him until you're snug against his chest. Close to him, where he can touch you, where you belong. Not with Morax or Barbatos. Not with humans but beside him. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his head into your hair and he stares off into the distance. The feeling never leaves him for the remainder of the night.

"Ah! There you are. I was running around crazy looking for you," he turns his hair to see your flushed form pulling yourself up onto the mountain cliff, "When I woke up I couldn’t find you anywhere! You gave me a scare there."

He hates you. He hates you.

Words of his previous master ring in his ears, almost as if her very soul is wrapping around him as she whispers in his ear how weak he is. Ones with power that refuse to take what they want because they rather live in the comfort of nothing. Be greedier, take what belongs to you.

"Xiao?" you say as his piercing eyes stare directly through you. His Master always told him that she loved him. Even if he hated her he still clung to that false love. Of being wanted. Isn't love for a single person vile? Would feeling such emotions for one person instead of "everyone" bring you down to reality? It's not fair that you've crawled your way into his heart while you walk along in bliss. Now that he thinks about it. It was so simple. He just needs to monopolize your thoughts and love. This time it won't be as friends.

"I love you."

He'll pull you down to where he is. You extended your hand down to hell so it's your fault. He'll drag you down kicking and screaming if he has to. You left him alive. You have to live for him and by him. He's not letting go.

Reblogged for extra notes

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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dodo-begone · 4 years ago

Text

Could you Not?

Pairing: Techno x Reader

Request: yooo remember a while ago when we were talking abt Techno hiding you from the yandere boys?? that would be hella neat to see ngl —

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: yandere, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, panic attack at end

A/n: yan!minors are mentioned, that’s why there’s a yandere warning.

The day was predestined to be great; a day full of sunshine and peace. So many potatoes would be tilled, the dog army would grow exponentially and other calming hobbies.

Now let’s be honest, that isn’t the reality of things at all. Nothing is ever nice and simple. Life always needs to throw a curveball at people; keeping them on their feet, on edge for their entire existence. Techno was no exception from this rule. His life had been plagued by tragedy and hardships. It made him calloused and desensitized towards the world and whatever challenges it had to throw at him. Though nothing could have really prepared him for what came next. Well he actually did, in a way. Similar in reasoning yet very different in the reaction and how the problem was presented to him.

Puffy stood at his door, struggling to hold someone the size of her. They were thrashing around, screeching to be released from their confines. She looked exhausted and beyond worried. There were few words to describe her state. Sadness painted her face like clouds painted the sky; it was evident with every feature of her face, every movement of her brow and reddening eyes. Pants escaped her lips and the struggling wasn’t helping her catch the escaping breaths.

The person Puffy was holding wasn’t any better. They looked malnourished, dirty, panicked, stressed. Those were just the obvious and quick observations. There were probably so many other hidden issues with this person. Honestly, Techno didn’t want to deal with them or Puffy. He was absolutely done dealing with people.

He’d have to get over it though, as Puffy asked him to care for this mystery person. She pleaded so much, saying that if they couldn’t stay with him, they’d be in terrible danger. Techno was her only option in protecting this person. There were some horrible people looking for the person in her arms and she couldn’t protect them on her own. Honestly he was only half listening. He really didn’t want to hear about another person’s sob story and how they so desperately needed his help. How they just couldn’t make it without his help. Occasionally Techno nodded or gave a “mhm” to indicate he was listening. Because that’s the polite thing to do, even if you aren’t listening. It shows you are listening and seems polite. Though he should’ve paid a bit more attention because the next thing he knew a fucking child was getting shoved into his arms.

They were so tiny that they could qualify as a child. So frail, too skinny, hair matted and looked too pale for their natural complexion. Horrified couldn’t even describe how he felt; he did not want to be holding this person, they looked so fragile and could be hurt so easily. Plus they were screaming and crying, still fighting to get out your captor’s grip, which was currently him. Distressed and crying people weren’t the most pleasant to be around especially when you’re a seven foot tall, socially awkward piglin hybrid.

Techno tried to return them to Puffy’s possession. She refused, pushing them further into his hold. She kept insisting that he let them stay with him, at least for a little bit. There was little time to prepare a place for them to stay and they needed the constant protection and some care. Techno kept arguing with Puffy, saying that he really didn’t want, need or have the time to care for them.

It wasn’t long when Puffy finally ended the argument with one phrase; “you still owe me an IOU.”

_______________________________________________

“So is this it,” Techno reluctantly asked, gently bouncing the slumbering stranger. It was and wasn’t surprising how worn out they ended up after the argument. Half-way through the arguing and accommodations, they finally calmed and soon fell asleep. Though they were violently shivering; this conversation couldn’t keep going like this. They both looked at them and looked back at each other.

“Yes. Please,” Puffy whispered, gently putting her hand onto their arm. “Please take care of them for now. You don’t have to care for them long. I just-i just need some time to set them up a place and some help. There were few options to go with and you were the best one.”

Silence settled over them once again. Techno sighed, building his resolve to care for another kid. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Puffy awarded Techno with one of the most relieved smiles he had ever encountered. She was visibly relaxed, not holding herself up like a puppet who’s tense strings were being tugged. “Now get going Puffy,” Techno ushered. “I can take it from here.”

With that, Puffy started her trek back home, through the unforgiving tundra. As Techno watched her walk away, he wondered how she managed it. How she could carry someone the size of herself for god-knows how long.

He couldn’t ponder long. The person in his arms was still out in the harsh cold and definitely not dressed or prepared for weather like this. A very vulnerable position. With that, he opened the door with his foot and brought the two of you inside.

There weren’t many places to lay someone down. The floor was an option, but it was probably super cold. Techno wasn’t too sure, but he also didn’t want to risk it at the moment. Scanning around reveals a small issue; Techno’s reading chair is the only place to sit that isn’t the damn floor. Crackling fire brought his attention to the welcoming presence of the hearth. So either the floor with the fireplace or the chair which was a decent distance from the fireplace. Was it really a question at that point?

Walking over to the fireplace, Techno tried to disturb the person as little as possible. He started to slowly place them onto the ground. They wouldn’t really notice if they were as exhausted as they looked. When they touched the ground, they stirred and groaned at the change in temperature. Swiftly Techno place them on the floor and held his hands up; a way of saying “okay i’m not touching it so it shouldn’t break now- don’t break”. After a few moments of stillness, Techno deemed himself to be in the “all clear”. With that, he walked off to a different part of the house. He had to start setting up a room for his new guest. And get them food and proper clothing-

A ruckus from the living quarters disturbed him. Oh god what was going on now? Without much thought, he ran to the noise. When he arrived, he frantically looked around. He was looking for anything, but more specifically a danger. But it was much the opposite.

There, at his front door, trying to get out like their life depended on it, was that stranger. Well, it wasn’t a stranger. He couldn’t keep forgetting that. It was ______. Though it was hard to do that; they looked so different. Panic seemed to just possess them; their eyes were wide and bloodshot and their face was even paler than he remembered them in their pale state. Which was an odd statement but it was oddly true. He hadn’t thought that you could get any paler, yet here you are proving him wrong.

You two were in a stare off- trying to figure out what to do. It would be somewhat hilarious if the situation wasn’t so serious; a person trying desperately to get out of someone’s house in some of the most comical positions while a seven foot piglin just awkwardly stared from the other side of the room. The semi-trance was broken by you. Tears started to fall down your face, body started to violently shake, and then you started to try and destroy the door with your body.

Techno was holding you in a heartbeat. Once again, you were dangling and struggling to get out of his grasp. Last time it wasn’t his grasp you were trying to escape, but it was all the same in the end. Your crying soon reverted back to sobbing and screams. Flinching, Techno contemplated just dropping you. Yet he couldn’t; you were trying to escape and that wasn’t a good idea.

Carrying you around the house was a challenge; you were swinging what little weight you could and it was working. He barely got to the other end of the room before he got fed up with your little tantrum. Without a second thought, he just dropped you like a bag of potatoes. The moment you hit the ground, you scrambled to get as far away as possible. That leads you to a corner. You kept an eye of him yet curled up so much. He couldn’t tell if it was because you were cold or scared.

“Please let me go back.”

That catches Techno off guard. It was obviously you voice; he wasn’t talking and you were the only other thing that could talk here. Yet it didn’t sound like you. Your voice was now so gravely, scratchy and heavy. Like you hadn’t properly talked in a while. Though your crying definitely wasn’t helping. Even taking that into consideration, you sound way worse than someone who is just crying and occasionally screaming.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles, staring at you. Waiting for you to answer or proof that he was actually imagining stuff. It could’ve easily been a voice though-

“I said please let me go back,” you sniffled, turning to look at him more. Your eyes held such sadness, besides the tears. The yearning in them hurt. It was obvious you were missing something.

“Go back where,” Techno prodded. He tried his best to make it gentle so you wouldn’t close up again. So he slowly sat on the ground with you, scooting towards you as a pace you could easily stop.

“Back to my friends, obviously,” you stated, keeping a steady and guarded eye on Techno. “I want to go back home. Back to Tommy and Tubbo and Ranboo an-and Purpled.” Suddenly you started to cry much harder. So hard it was practically impossible to speak. Only hiccups and gasps left your lips.

“Let me go, I won’t bother you again.” You kept repeating that phrase. Even rephrasing it, but it was muffled. Well not muffled, but extremely hard to hear through your crying. Techno let you keep saying that in hopes you tire of it, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect. You only started to say it more clearly, louder, and more assertively. It was obvious you were bound and determined to go back to wherever the hell you were before.

“Hey kid,” Techno does his best to stop your babbling. The pleads had just digressed to nonsense, so it was more accurate to call that mess babbling. “I can’t do that.”

His answer wasn’t well received. It only made you sadder and madder; you even deployed the puppy dog eyes. You really wanted this.

“It’s not safe with them,” he reiterated. “You look sickly too. Did you not care for yourself with them?”

Silence consumed you; maybe now you were finally thinking more clearly.

A meek “no” left your lips. Realization seemed to hit you, at least somewhat. It was a step forward, and Techno was taking it wholeheartedly. Anything was progress and he just wanted this over. Some of the voices whispered that they wanted you to get better, but he ignored them.

“Then it’s settled. You’re staying here.”

#tw: yandere #tw: stockholm syndrome #c: techno #techno x reader #technoblade x reader #dsmp!techno #mcyt x reader #mcyt shipping #dsmp shipping #dodo writing #tw: kidnapping #c: puffy #tw: panic attack #dsmp x reader

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yanderenightmare · 4 years ago

Note

could we get the bnha yanderes with a darling that’s actually really fond of their dark side and revels in the attention

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: anxiety, arson, drugs, guilt, delusions, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, mind control, DUBCON, yandere-themes

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

He had planned to be sweet, similar to his scent of caramel as opposed to what destruction he was capable of. He had planned to be patient, to tolerate whatever screams and cries his darling might have reacted with, but what he was met with wasn’t horror, but… something strangely akin to what he would call gratitude or even excitement or even lovesickness. He thinks she surprised herself more than she surprised him with how easy she folded, but once he got over the shock and not to mention the suspicion her compliant nature beckoned from him, he was only motivated to go harder, to be rougher, to be as intense as he had wished but had held back. She likes the attention, despite it being overwhelming and scary and brutal at times, she still likes it, maybe even because of it. Once he got over the fear of her acceptance crushing under the full weight of his obsession, he became cocky about it. She’s his little freak and he has the confidence and the reassurance to tease her for it now, thoroughly amused with how her eyes cross paths and her brows knit together, drooling and mewling with his hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing her neck with her tight little pussy clenching around his shaft as he drives into her. He exploits it, finding such great amusement and entertainment in hearing her pray for him to go harder and faster, even as she begins to cry, limbs shaking as she continues to beg for him, eyes like opium, wide and void with pooling darkness.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

Dabi had expectations. Expecting his little darling to not fully be at peace with his self-proclaimed ownership of her, he had decided to not pay her objections any mind. He decided that the hard way was the best way from the very start. But… his darling didn’t meet him with the type of reluctance he had expected. Sure, she was crying, but when he reached out his hand she didn’t bite like the sort of animal he’d expected, but rather, reached out ever so timidly and eyes so wide and glossy and sparkly and in search for some comfort. He couldn’t be harsh when she was being so sweet, he couldn’t be anything but appreciative when she curled up on his lap like such a soft little thing, hands gripping onto his shirt, sobs that seemed too tame for him to scold her, besides… it felt… nice. It felt nice to be the source of comfort as opposed to the factor of discomfort. It felt like absolution. He used to think he’d find clinginess annoying, but his little darling is clingy in all the right ways. Latching onto him when she’s crying, after a bad dream, all throughout the night, even when he’s the source to her pain, when he makes her jump up and down on his cock, her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers intertwining in his raven locks, legs around his torso, running to hug and welcome him home, kissing him, telling him how she missed him, how much she loves him, how much she needs him.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

He’s so confused. He kidnapped her. Kidnapped her. Took her, abducted her, stole her, forced her away from a life with little regard to her feelings on the whole ordeal, subjugated her to a tiny room with more flying specs of dust than light allowed to shine through the windows. It’s not even like he’s a handsome kidnapper either. Is she insane? Why is she looking at him like that? Why isn’t she afraid, why isn’t she swatting his hands away when he reaches to touch her? Why is she touching him? How can she touch his wrinkles, his scars, his cracking breaking skin? How can she touch his hands, his scarred deadly bloodied hands? And what is that look on her face? If he didn’t know any better he’d call it fascination, curiosity perhaps… adoration? No. No, no, no, no way. No way she’s simply just… accepting… enjoying… just as simple as that. To be honest, he’s feeling slightly freaked out, alarmed, concerned. This isn’t natural. This isn’t healthy. She should at least cry, if only just a little bit. But no. No, her fingers playing curiously with his hair when he’s playing videogames. At least she doesn’t talk to him like they’re chummy old pals, then he’d really feel the thin hairs at the back of his neck rise. But, when he touches her milky skin with his sandpaper-fingertips she doesn’t squirm, and when he pushes those same fingers knuckle deep inside her she doesn’t tell him to stop. He finds himself quickly enjoying testing the boundaries of his little darling, boundaries he’s yet to have found proof of.

SHINSO HITOSHI

He was expecting for there to be some debate surrounding his ownership of her, he was preparing to teach his little pet a thing or two about who was boss early on, but… she seemed to slip right into her role so naturally. Instead of him teasing her, she’s teasing him, mocking him, making him feel as though he has no control even as he stares into those wide milky orbs who no longer have the ability of mobility, yet still has the power to inch her lips into that eerie playful catlike grin, as though she’s excited, as though spiked with untamed thrill. She’ll talk to him as though there’s no danger, as though he won’t have her mind in his clutches by the end of it, almost as if she’s counting on it, waiting for it, coaxing him with words of her own. They’ll play like cat and mouse, one always either tempting or chasing the other. She’ll even laugh, eyes bright and vivid and spiked and twirling as she lets him catch her time and time again, in a way that makes him believe he’s the one that’s been captured. He’s surprised, to say the least, surprised because his little darling is in fact a little devil, a little baby-faced angel-eyed demon, who enjoys how the darkness feels against her skin, who loves how his inky-fingers feel when tampering with her mind, and has darkness of her own to drown him with too.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

He was preparing for a wild beast, but was happy to find his little darling settling in as though she understood that in the comfort of his house is where she belonged. Calling it a kidnapping became weird and sounded foreign when referring to their arrangement, especially when he came home to his darling in her apron, cooking, cleaning or sleeping so soundly on his couch you’d think she’d done so her whole life. She doesn’t flinch when he touches her, she rather leans in to greet the touch, her eyes heavy-lidded and joined with his gaze. And when he comes home, some days all broken and bruised and bloodied and smoke-ridden, his feathers ragged and plucked, she’ll fuss. Fuss and pamper and coo and take such good care of him, softly and sweetly patching him up, messaging wings, give his torn lip a kiss, stroke a careful hand through his locks. She’ll be so perfect, like an angel, a living breathing real-life angel. Or a guardian, something he’s always wanting. Someone to make him feel safe and loved and protected, despite him being the hero and his darling being the victim to his villainy.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Here he was thinking she couldn’t possibly be any more of an adorable little darling than what she already was. He’s not used to being wrong about his calculations, he’s not used to liking finding faults in his calculations, but he has to admit he was pleasantly surprised with how his darling accepted his feelings easier than what he had expected. He had assumed it to be a lengthy and gradual and careful process, he was prepared to take his time, be patient, be supportive, but… his darling portrayed little of what anxiety symptoms he had imagined: panic-attacks, quaking, crying, screaming. She seemed more honored than anything. Amazed to have caught the eye of the Midoriya Izuku, the number 1. Hero of not just Japan, but arguably the whole world. She felt proud, bashful to be getting the attention, but thriving in it despite herself believing it was misplaced. Wanting to return Izuku’s worship, cherish, awe with appreciation of her own at every given turn. She would still yelp when he picked her up to carry her about, but who wouldn’t when his arms are the sizes of pillars. Though, the sound of surprise would always be followed by the sound of laughter, school-girl giggles that felt like the fluttering of butterflies against his chest. Also, when she slept on top of him. With one of his hands placed on the dome of her ass and the other holding a book up for him to read, the small feel of her drumming pitter patter heartbeats against his ribcage, so cute and comfortable and safe.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

He was expecting a fight, he was expecting annoying migraine-evoking screams, he was expecting thrashing, causing waves to fall onto the bathroom tiles when she was in the bathtub. He was expecting the worst, because that’s what good business men do: expect the worst, prepare for the worst, and find refuge in the fact that it was far from what hell they had imagined. But… it’s rare to be met with the exact opposition of what you had predicted, which was what had happened. There was no war, there was no fight, there was no riot, there wasn’t even the hint of resistance. There were still small tremors of fear though, yet far less than what he had foreseen. The type of fear you find when bringing home a new pet, more careful hesitant curiosity than actual fear, as though trying to find comfort in your surroundings, as though trying to settle in. He looks like a dangerous man, yet… her eyes aren’t terror-wide but big with anticipation, with a strange form of thrill. And though her actions remained feather-light she was still the first one to reach out, she was still the one to ask to witness the demolition and recreation of his quirk, she was still the one that chose to tie the knot to his tie in the morning. Though he was the one to have found and taken her, she was the pioneer.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Not much can change what Shoto has planned for his darling’s future. Whether she enjoys it or hates it, it will be accepted. What he plans to do with her, what soft-tinted or red-violent passions he plans on bestowing upon her, the fact that she likes it from the start hardly matters when through time she was going to learn to enjoy it anyway. He was always going to lick up her skin with his flames or make her skin whisper upon the threat of being frozen, until she’s a sweat-slicked feverish mess in his lap, and he was always going to take good soft care of her afterwards. But, he must admit, he’s surprised to find that the aftercare is such a sweet pleasure, seemingly rivaling what blissed-out state he can reach when playing with his little darling. He knew he would enjoy it, but… he could never have imagined the motherly touch his darling gifts him with, what tender smiles and heavenly laughs and the way she tangles herself with him, limbs an unruly yet comfortable knot. What more, when she asks to see his quirks, wants him to make frost-flowers on the windows or in the shower on the glass-walls, when she holds his hands as he creates little lanterns of dancing tendrils and wisps, ones she can tickle with her fingertips as they twirl in his palm. The way her eyes light up with that childlike-wonder he never seemed to possess when he was young, makes him feel a different type of warm far from burning.

TIP-JAR

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