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abronzeagegod · 2 years ago

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You've always lived on the edge of the forest, away from town, away from people. It's not that you dislike people, it's just that people don't seem to always like you.

For a long time you've made yourself a comfortable little life near the forest. You hunt in the deep, dark forest, keeping the wildlife in some sort of balance, even going so far as to seek out and hunt or capture anything that might be too dangerous for the locals in town. Which is something you always do without them asking for you to do it.

The townsfolk have always been wary of the forest. It is big, bigger than it should be if you simply walked the perimeter, but if you tried to walk through it, well... it could take you days or weeks to traverse the wood. You've never had any serious trouble in the forest, which is probably why no one approaches you if they can help it. The few times anyone does come to you in your small home at the edge of the trees, it's because someone has gone missing in the forest and they need your help to rescue them.

The sun has set and all was quiet.

The knock on the door cause you to almost jump out of your skin. You dropped the mug you were drinking from.

Normally if a townsperson was coming to your cabin they made much more noise. If it was a monster or an animal there would be other sounds. This was someone, or something, that had snuck up on you. Few things could do that.

You hold your knife close at hand, because you're always prepared, even in your house.

You open the door a crack and there stands a pitiable creature. They were thin, bones peaking out beneath their brown skin. Their clothing was ragged and barely holding together as it looked like it was made from stitched together leaves. Their long hair was tangle knots of leaves and twigs. The only thing that seemed healthy were their eyes, a bright and brilliant green that reflected the dim firelight of your cabin.

You're very good with natures and the various creatures that live there. But people are almost alien to you, so the expression on this person's face is something that you don't quite understand. Not that it matters, since this is a person that is at your door, looking like they need help.

You hold the door open, and say, "Come in, let's get you warm and something to eat."

You invite them in and pull out one of the two chairs at your small table. They stand at the edge of the doorframe and look at you with an inscrutable expression.

"Hope you don't mind vegetable stew. Roots, tubers, some mushrooms. Grew them myself," you say as you ladle some of the food you had prepared earlier into a bowl that you set at the table near the chair. "It's still warm."

They eventually creep into your house and sit. They make almost no sound as they move, for some reason you expected them to creak and groan like an old-growth tree in the wind, but they don't even cause the floorboards to creak.

You know, inherently, that there are many dangers in the forest, and not all of them are beasts. Some of the monsters are things that wear the flesh of men and can cause untold destruction. But if you are to die under the pretense of helping someone in need, well you can rest easy with that.

While your guest sits and eats, you go about cleaning up your broken tea mug.

"You broke it?" they ask as their first words to you. You find it hard to describe their voice, words were never a strong suit of yours either. But it is beautiful, pleasant, and soft.

"You gave me a scare," you say. "Didn't hear you approach."

They don't respond, but they do eat your stew.

There's a quiet in your cabin, there always is. But now it's different, it's a quiet shared.

"Can I get you a bath?"

There's a nod, so you interpret that as a yes.

"Have as much food as you like. I'll draw up some water."

You leave to go to the well just outside and start pulling up water. It takes you a little while before you return with the full pails to sit near the fire to warm up.

When you do return, you guest has eaten a second bowl of your stew and has taken to looking over your various things. You don't have a lot of things, and everything you do have has a purpose.

You don't feel as if you have to explain what the various objects are, or of what value they are to you, and your guest does not ask.

You lay out some of your clothes, which would be very big on their slight frame, but you can't have them wearing what they have been, at least not until you have a chance to repair it.

The clothes are joined by a towel, a wash rag, some soap, a comb, and on a whim you place out a small bottle of fragrant oil that you've only ever used sparingly.

After filling up the small tub, you tell your guest that their bath is ready.

They drop their clothing on the floor in front of you and step into the warm water.

They seem as nonplussed by the nudity as you do, which you assume is some kind of societal faux pa, but you've never really done very well in society.

Your guest would be beautiful, stunning even, but all you can think of is how they haven't eaten enough.

While they soak in the bath and go about cleaning themselves up, you gently pick up their dress made of leaves to see if you can repair it. Your needlework is serviceable, and you are by no means an artist or a master at the craft. But you repair as best as you can some of the seams.

Once your guest has finished with their bath, skin cleaned, hair brushed and shining, you offer them their dress of leaves back, but they decline, instead dressing in your oversized clothes.

"Thank you," they say as they seemingly move towards the door to leave.

"You should stay the night," you say. "Rest up. And if you need, you can leave in the morning."

They watch you with a curious expression once again. But they agree. You make up your bed with fresh sheets and offer it to your guest.

"Where will you sleep?" they ask.

"I can sleep on the floor," you remark. It wouldn't be the first time you've slept on the floor of your own house.

"That is nonsense."

You shrug. "Perhaps, but I will survive."

You make a place to sleep on the floor.

As the fire slowly fades to embers and the gentle darkness of night envelopes your cabin, you can see the dim lights reflected in your guest's eyes as they watch you.

---

When you wake the following morning, not only is your guest awake, but they are moving about your cabin. They continue to surprise you.

"I have... attempted to make you... breakfast," they say as if the words were foreign to them and they were working to translate it from a different language.

"My thanks," you say. And, "you didn't have to."

"You welcomed me into your home. I wish to repay you."

"No repayment needed," you say. "You came to me, you looked like you needed help. I offered, you accepted. No further transactions required."

The breakfast was good, if uncooked. Fruits and nuts gathered from outside, and as far as you could tell gathered from a good distance away.

Not only did your guest find food out in the wilderness and the forest, but they did so without harm or even alerting you.

A surprising guest indeed.

---

After the morning meal and parts of your usual routine, you head outside. You have to tend to your garden where you go some vegetables and herbs. They follow you and observe as you go about your work.

They seem to approve.

When you finish by picking some of them to use for your nightly meal, you take some time to thank each plant.

"Why do you thank them?" your guest asks.

"They are things that live. They are giving their lives to sustain mine. So I thank them."

They make a sounds that you think is approval.

---

You half-expected your guest to leave, but they remain, so you make food for the both of you.

Making food for two is a bit of an art that is lost on you, or at least has been long neglected, so you'll have to work on that.

"May I stay longer?" they ask.

"Yes," you respond without reservation or hesitation.

Before you prepare yourself your spot on the floor to sleep, you make sure that the dress of leaves is hung up nicely and out of the way.

---

Your guest stays with you for a long time, and you don't mind. They are an interesting companion to have.

There's a quiet in your cabin, few words are shared between you, but it's comfortable.

And you learn plenty about each other.

You learn that they are utterly silent in their movements, and they constantly surprise you. It is a dangerous talent to have, but they don't have an ounce of malice towards you or you would have been dead a dozen times over.

They are also someone who doesn't sleep much. But they do seem more... passive in the mornings, and more active at night.

They also seem to have a great affinity for growing and planting things.

After a week or so they started to help you in your garden, and with their help things seemed to flourish without requiring as much effort and pain as it usually requires of you.

You like the way they garden. There's something, nice about it.

After another week you start to notice that there are more flowers growing around than normal. You usually are more... utilitarian... than this, you grow herbs, vegetables, things of medicinal nature.

But you notice the way that they liked the flowers and touched them each with a sort of peaceful reverence. So you decided that the north part of the land around your cabin could be a nice flower garden for your now long term guest.

You don't mind at all.

---

The first time someone else approaches the cabin, the stark difference in the unintentionally loud approach and your quiet guest were greater than the differences between night and day.

If someone was coming to see you that meant it was serious. Someone needed help and you weren't going to turn them away.

You were reading quietly by the fire and when you looked around, your mysterious, quiet guest had disappeared. You can't help but feel a little disappointed, sad even. But you can't say you weren't surprised.

Someone from town came to see you at the edge of night, at the edge of the wood, because their daughter had run off, they think they went into the forest. The parent will do anything, give anything, to get their child back safe and sound.

Of course you'll help. You can't say no, you can't sit back and let an innocent be lost in something much bigger and more dangerous than themself.

You agree to help, and go to get your gear.

The forest is dangerous at the best of times, in the daylight, with bright, unobstructed views. In the night, when the monsters come out, it was even more dangerous.

The villager thanks you profusely as you start to put on your armor, before they run off. When you grab your bow and axe, you're surprised, even though you shouldn't be, that your house guest is standing there. They are dressed in their dress of leaves.

"I am coming with you." No question, no room for doubt or uncertainty. They stated it as a fact.

"It will be dangerous," you say. You've always noted the way that they tend to skirt the forest. Edging around it like a scared cat trying to find the least wet place to step. "I have to go into the forest."

"I know," they say. You can't help but notice how different they seem in ways both obvious and subtle. They've gained some weight and filled out. They moved as quiet and silent as always, but now they move less cautiously, like they've grown familiar in the house you've built. "I am coming."

They refused any arms or armor. You don't have much spare weapons or armor to offer, but you've been in the forest more than most so you're willing to offer your own things to keep them safe. But they want none of it. They are willing to go into the forest with you, unarmed or armored, dressed only in their dress of leaves.

---

You find the girl in the forest. She wasn't very far in, nowhere near where the true danger starts, near the old growth.

She was scared, cornered near a large tree by a lean and hungry looking wolf. The black fur was matted and starting to come out. The wolf was big, but clearly hungry, borderline starving. It was sad, because the second you saw the wolf, saw the girl, you knew how this was going to have to end.

You didn't want to kill the animal. It was hungry and trying to do it's best to survive in a hard world. But the girl was young, scared, and wanted someone to protect her. And if the wolf killed you, then it would be fair.

---

You killed the wolf, rescued the girl, and carried her out of the forest.

Your companion didn't say anything. They didn't help, but you didn't need the help. They watched you slay the beast and rescue the small girl. Their bright eyes watching you the entire time, not so unlike the wolf.

You've spent enough time with your guest to be able to read their mood a little bit. They don't speak much, nor are they terribly open with their feelings, but you can tell that they are not happy.

You return the girl to their scared and terrified parents who cried and thanked you profusely.

You like to help, you like to be kind. But there's something about the being thanked for doing something that you would have done without being asked that makes you uncomfortable.

You return to your cabin where your companion has discarded their dress of leaves on the floor and sat naked on your bed. They, as they so often do, remain silent as you enter the cabin.

At first, you don't speak. You pick up the dress, and reverently hang it up. The entire time you guest watches you with their bright green eyes reflecting the dying firelight.

"Get some rest," you say. "I have some work to attend to."

They say nothing, simply watch you.

You leave the cabin, and return to the forest.

It was a long night.

You made your way back to where you killed the wolf. You would have liked to save the beast if you could. But there was nothing that could have been done. A starving animal would have done anything to eat, and you can't blame it, nor could you change the course of action that brought you back to the body.

You take no joy in the act, but the last thing you want to do is leave the body without showing it the proper respect.

The wolf may have died unnecessarily, but you could make sure that the death itself wasn't wasted.

You dress the body, taking things of value or things that you can use, and making sure to dispose of the body as best as you can to return the once great hunter to the forest it called home.

---

You return to your cabin home shortly before sunrise.

You make sure to deposit your new items and return to the edge of the forest. There's something that you do every time you have to venture into the forest and end the life of something there. You kneel down in the rough, wild grass and offer a prayer.

This time you're not surprised, when your guest appears next to you.

"Who do you pray to?" they asked.

"No god, no prayer," you say before you finish the ritual and stand up. "Gods are too..." you paused struggling to find the right word. "Ordered. Put together. I'm thanking the forest. I'm praying for the wolf, for the forest. To the nature itself. Thanking it for returning me to safety, for returning the girl to her parents. I'm apologizing for killing the wolf. I would have saved it if I could."

You look at your companion. They had that same hard look on their face as they had in the forest last night. But you watch it soften.

"I know you don't sleep much, but I need rest. I'm going to sleep and then I'll make us some food," you tell your companion.

You go to sleep on the floor. Even though your guest doesn't sleep much, the bed is theirs, and you'd never think of revoking hospitality. Besides, the floor is just comfortable.

---

You awake in the early afternoon in your bed.

Your guest must have moved you to your bed. A kind gesture.

You find them in the garden, tending to the flowers. You watch for a moment with a certain fondness.

The rest of the day is filled with small moments: making food, gardening, drying of herbs for tea. There was a certain closeness now.

After dinner you guest looks at you for several long moments and asks, "Why do you sleep on the floor?"

"You are my guest. It is only proper that you have the bed."

"You never asked why I stay. Or what I left."

"You don't need to tell me."

"Still, you do not ask."

"It is your life, your secrets. I would be a poor host if I pried. You needed help, you came to me, and so I will help until you tell me you no longer need my help."

"And if I stay forever?"

"Then you stay forever."

"And you sleep on the floor."

You nod. "And I sleep on the floor."

Your guest stares at you with a strong but strange look. "You are a strange human."

You smile a little and shrug. "I get that a lot."

You companion studies you for a few more moments before they nod. "Tonight you sleep in your bed."

"I won't put you out. Unless you are saying that you are leaving."

"No," they say, firmly, confidently. "I will stay in the bed with you."

This threw you. Caught totally off-guard by the statement. "You understand what that means? What it is that you are implying?"

"I do. I understand. I want you to join me. You are a unique individual."

Once again, your guest surprised you.

---

Your guest never left. After a couple of years you were no long strangers, and they were no longer your guest.

Your life was nice, quiet, and with your spouse, full of surprises.

None was more surprising when one night, during a bright and full moon, some of the dark shadows crept out of the forest. It was a witching night, the kind of deep and terrible night where bad things happen and monsters stalk the darkness.

You had warded the village during the day, spending all of your time working to keep the townsfolk safe from those dangerous monsters that would come out. It took longer than expected but you wanted the villagers safe. You could take care of yourself and your cabin if the need came to it, but the town had little defenses.

You were armed and ready. You had on your armor, you axe at the ready, just in case you had even prepared some rare and valuable silver tipped arrows.

You spouse had on their dress of leaves.

The wind howled and shook the small cabin you called home. But little else happened. It seemed the night would pass without incident. You watched the forest through the window, and for the first time in as long as you remember, your spouse was nervously moving about the cabin, trying to find themselves busy work to do.

The wind suddenly picks up, blowing hard, and rattling the entire house. Rocking it down to its foundations. Something breaks and suddenly the wind dies.

Your spouse had accidentally cut their finger on a piece of broken glass.

You want to go tend to their wound but there's a sudden knock on the door that makes you almost jump out of your skin.

There's a chance that there is a village in need of help, someone who might be dying or worse. You have to help if you can.

Your spouse knows this about you, so they don't try to stop you from opening the door, even if they know what is beyond it.

You open the door and there are three shadows, deep, dark, and full of teeth and eyes.

"Mmmmy lieeeeege," the shadows say. It's almost a cry, or a moan. Something almost, but not quiet like human speech. You can't say that you understand the words, but the meaning is clear.

The shadows push past you and into your home, where you spouse sits on a chair and rubs their temple, finger bleeding slightly from the cut.

"Mmmmy lieeeege," they cry again as they descend on to whatever qualifies as knees. "Pppllleaaaaase. Yoooou'vvvveee beeeennnn gone sooooo loonnng. A bit of bllllooood if you pllllleeeeaaaassse."

Your spouse looks to you. You've gotten good at reading their inscrutable expressions, there's an understanding there even if it isn't perfect knowledge.

"Oooor sssshallllllll we drink the huuuuuuumaaaannn," the shadows moan.

"No!" your spouse says, almost a shout. "Return to whence you came!"

But whatever power they once held over these shadows didn't seem to extend to their command. The shadows turned on you with many teeth gleaming in the firelight.

---

In your youth, when you were still trying to make the village life work. You lived in the town and with the people. You spent a night in the inn listening to tales of a traveler, someone who had spent many nights at sea.

They told a folk story of a mysterious creature of the sea. A great fish that could shed its skin as a coat to walk and live as a human.

Selkies they were called.

Their coats were of great value and if you caught a selkie's coat you could control them, keep them, enslave them to your will. The traveler was a detestable man, and said that it was many a man's dream to catch a selkie and keep their coat, to have the perfect, obedient wife.

You hated the idea of capturing and holding a person, a creature of such magnificence.

But you always wondered why would such a thing be unique to the sea. Why not something as beautiful and dangerous as a forest that could be just as deep and dark as the ocean? What if there was a forest creature, of the old growth, that could shed its skin to live as a human and have their coat be a dress of leaves.

---

You've only ever seen you spouse fight once before.

You fought with them against the shadows. And as dangerous as the monsters who come out of the forest to seek blood, your spouse was more so.

You are going to have to rebuild a significant portion of your cabin. And replant the garden. But there is nothing you would rather do than spend your time with your spouse, planting a garden.

Monsters break into your home, seeking blood. Upon seeing your spouse they stop and bend the knee in reverence. You’re left confused while your spouse sighs, rubbing their forehead.

#my fiction #i've been writing this most of the day #when i wasn't playing dnd i was writing this #i think its quite good personally'#but it's also got almost nothing to do with the prompt until the very very end #ah well the price of art

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olet-lucernam · 7 months ago

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progress update: A Hollow Promise, CHVI

word count: 26,232 estimated percentage completion: 67%

progress notes: so i ended up taking an editing machete to several parts of this chapter (including parts that i've published- will update those posts later) to fix some pacing issues.

but then i also wandered into accidentally writing my first sex scene.

so it's a net positive i guess.

(preview snippet of said smut scene is under the cut. as a treat. especially for those sitting through me doing a lot. of. foundation. building. i promise it is going somewhere, i have Plans)

i'm getting into the final stretch, albeit my current status is "trapped in a Very Interesting scene that I Do Not Know How to move along". i'll figure it out, but think i may actually need a beta at some point. i'll probably keep putting it off for forever, though, since i can still barely stand to let @femmealec look at my barely-edited stuff. (true trust, right there)

PREVIEW

The mattress dipped as he levered back up the bed, slipping loose from her hands, before dipping down to smudge a kiss against her cheekbone, just under her left eye. Astrid sighed, tipping her face into him. Her hand shifted up to find the ridge of his forearm, where he was propped up above her, stroking along honed muscle and the curve of bone. Although she had sincerely never felt deprived, Astrid could admit that she wanted this. Two deft fingers scraped the inside seam of her shorts. The friction of soft jersey against her damp, expectant flesh set Astrid’s hips snapping up reflexively, muscles pulling taut. “Mn-!” Loki exhaled his satisfaction against her, his breath dusting her lashes like frost, before his lips grazed upwards to the corner of her eye. Let me hear you, he reminded her, darkly, setting a shock of pleasure through her bloodstream. His fingers curved against her again, pulling a bitten-off cry from Astrid that pitched higher towards its tail, becoming strangled in her throat as her head pressed back. The pads of his digits barely scraped against her, swirling in a tight droplet shape, testing and gathering the dense slickness that was clinging to the gusset of her shorts, heavy and rich. Astrid’s grip upon Loki’s arm tightened, nails dragging into his skin for purchase, heels dragging against the sheets as she drew her body open to him. Loki lowered his head to slide his tongue languidly along the line of her clavicle. From behind closed eyelids, Astrid blindly reached for the artifice of his shoulder, anchoring herself against him; her palm slid along to the curve of the nape of his neck, carding her fingers through the cool satin of his hair, scraping pared nails against his scalp and lilting her body up against his perfect mouth. It elicited a faintly agonised noise from Loki, ghosting across and cooling the saliva on her skin. Loki’s form dragged a few desperate inches against her, his spell wavering and sparking under a rush of uncontrolled mana, rippling through Astrid as its conduit. Almost in retaliation, he dipped his touch deeper, and began setting a rhythm in earnest. She was lost in under four strokes, pulled under like a riptide, raw nature hijacking her brain.

#writing #progress update #writing update #a hollow promise #it smells of the lamp

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kalimarinus · 8 months ago

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close call.

[ summary : reader gets trapped, their fellow soldiers save them. ]

[ relationships : tf141 x gn!reader (platonic) ]

[ warnings : 2nd person pov , gn reader 🤍 , use of y/n (your name) & c/n (codename/callsign) , (leg) injuries , more than needed description of the injuries & pain , a lot of writing about reader , many inaccuracies whoops sorry! ]

[ word count : 1,930 ]

[ notes : i really need to stop procrastinating,!! but wow a proper fic this time around.. also!! i'm so sorry ghost lovers he's barely mentioned + thesaurus my beloved <3 i swear i proofread this 100 times if it still has ONE mistake i'm so sorry but i'm gonna cry now. > ver inspired by the AMAZING WONDERFUL WRITER @python333 < please please please go check their lovely works out or else ill break your ankles coryxkenshin style (EMMM IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO TAKE INSPO FROM YER WRITING JUST LMK !!! I'LL TAKE THIS DOWN!!,,..) ]

This was a predicament. Just some minutes into a mission, you had gotten separated from the rest. You can barely recall how or why, besides the memories of running for safety. You just knew you were trapped now. Trapped in some rugged building, not even sure how far you got from your comrades or your objective. It’s quiet inside, not silent, but much less noisy than a few minutes ago. You’re far enough away from everyone that you can’t distinctively hear the shouting of soldiers and the sounds of gunfire. And just like in some stupid action movie, of course some random heavy objects fell on you and got you stuck.

As a result of dashing away from the danger into a building and also stupidly looking back just to check if you were safe, you barely noticed a concrete pillar in front of you. In a split second, you ended up on the creaky, wooden floor, and you swear you can somehow feel a bruise forming on your forehead. However, the ringing in your ears and the throbbing pain in your head felt like nothing when a sharp pain suddenly surges through you. Your instincts immediately make you shout, and there’s a moment where your voice ripples throughout the room until you bring yourself to finally focus your eyes on the gaping hole in the ceiling and then the pile of rubble piled atop your right leg that seemed to have just materialized on you.

The jagged edges of the rocks ripped through your uniform, and there was a prominent burning but somehow cold sensation right around your ankle and thigh, but to you, you could feel the ache everywhere. You attempt to shift your leg around to get more comfortable— more comfortable than you are right now at least, but you can feel the sharp edges of the rocks dig deeper into your skin. To you, it feels like a thousand giant hornets stung you and then got pounded by a sledgehammer— but all the pain is just focused on those two spots. You try not to panic but you swear you can feel something piercing a tissue of muscle or something, just the grotesque thought of skin, your skin and muscle getting ripped open by a slab of stone makes you want to throw up— but you’re sure you’re exaggerating. That thought is pushed aside by the reminder of the agony your nerves are enduring, making you almost cry out again— but you’re able to push it down enough that it just comes out as a deep groan.

“It’s not that bad. Just stop thinking about it.” You mumble mindlessly, like voicing your thoughts out loud would make it better. You try to calm yourself down— to remind yourself you’re still alive and breathing, despite the fact there are parts of rock buried deep in the flesh and some of your bones have probably snapped in two from the weight dropped onto you. A few deep breaths later and you think you’re composed, at least relaxed enough that you can figure out a way to get your leg dislodged and yourself out of this building safely.

“Just need to… push this off.” You try to reassure yourself as you prop your body up, reaching an arm over in a struggle to push some of the debris off your leg, but it’s no use. Attempting to shove the rubble to the side. Lifting some up and then pushing it. Using both arms. Trying to kick one of the bigger ones off with your other leg. Adjusting your lower half again regardless of how much it hurt to move last time— then doing everything all over again. Nothing. The mound is too heavy.

Again, you inhale in and out a couple more times, trying not to stress and drown yourself in hysteria. Once in a state of enough calm again, your mind scrambles to search for ideas to get out of the situation despite the pounding in your head from earlier. Your earpiece. Your hand immediately shoots up to grab where your earpiece should be, but your fingers don’t feel the cold material. Your eyes widen and your stomach churns at the chance it somehow slipped out of your ear when you were running. You survey the area, but the floor just consists of dust, other sorts of clutter, and no earpiece. ‘It has to be around here.’ You look around you multiple times, over and over again, like the small device is going to suddenly appear in front of you.

The realization that you don’t have your earpiece has you fearing for your life again— you don’t even know how you didn’t notice that there was no familiar voice of your captain saying, “C/N, do you copy?” Or maybe your lieutenant randomly saying some corny jokes. Probably your only chance of getting out of here alive was gone. You know you shouldn’t give up so easily— to keep trying, but you felt like there was already zero hope. You’re going to bleed out and die right here, you’re sure it’s the end. You think you should accept your fate and just wait here patiently to die, but still, you’re holding on to the probably last shred of energy and life you still have in your body. Just in case, maybe with some miracle, you’ll get out, somehow.

And so you wait, and it feels like hours. It feels like days, years, but it’s probably only been thirty minutes you’ve been sitting. Sitting there, the pain in your head wearing off but the throbbing in your leg getting worse by the second. The heft of it all just makes your entire nervous system scream in pain. Now you feel like you should’ve appreciated that adrenaline a lot more because now that it’s worn off, your ankle feels like it’s being crushed by an anvil and your thigh feels like it's been penetrated by a huge nail.

You kind of regret the decision of not yelling— calling for help, so maybe someone would find you. That should’ve been your first option, but now you can’t seem to say anything, like someone had ripped your vocal cords out and on top of that duct-taped your mouth shut. You’ve lost enough blood that you’ve lost all of the energy you thought you had earlier, and you can slightly see the bottom of the large rock on your thigh being tainted with a deep red. And you’re sure the one on your ankle has been bloodied too.

“C/N? C/N!?” Suddenly a recognizable voice yells out your callsign— tone frantic but somehow still gentle, and glazed with a British accent. It interrupts your thoughts and in a dire attempt to let them know you’re here, trapped, you try to use all the power in your body to try and call back, but only a quiet, almost silent whimper comes out but you don’t think they even heard it. “Y/N, are you there?—” They cut themselves off and you hope it’s from shock, surprise as they see you, disheveled and bruised. And now you’re sure they have because whoever it is comes running to you, shouting for other people. “Guys, they’re in here!” They say, and you can feel them grab and squeeze your hand tightly, so tight now you think the bones in your legs aren’t the only things that are broken.

“Did -ou call th- p-ra-edics alre-dy, Gh-st?” “-ou’re g-ing to be -kay, -eah?” You can barely pick up anything now, but you can tell there are multiple voices now, one gruff and the other having a heavy Scottish accent. You feel like you’re going deaf, the noise around you going muffled and you finally realize you’ve been slipping in and out of consciousness. When your head lolls and you can briefly feel your chin against the in-between area of your collarbones, that definitely makes it apparent, to yourself and to the people around you. Your vision turns foggy almost every other second, and you see black and white dots dancing around your eyesight until it fully turns dark. All the commotion around you goes faint and you want to stay awake when you feel your hand get squeezed again, but oh god you can’t because you feel so nauseous and dizzy like you’re going to vomit and—

In just a flash, you wake up with a small and quiet gasp— your sight blurry and all you can see is white along with some slight movements, and a consistent beeping noise in the background. You slowly sit up, grimacing as a brief pain radiates from your right leg again, but then let out a relieved sigh as you can feel it dull down again, which your assumption for that is medical drugs, thank God for those. Your eyes finally focus just enough for you to know what’s around the room— and you grasp the fact that you’re in a medical bed, your body from the waist down covered in thin, pale sheets. The bright white lights of the med bay shine down on you, an ECG monitor to the right of your bed, and there's an analog clock hung up on the wall in front of you. You think it reads somewhere around 11:30 P.M. You're also kind of grateful now that you didn't stay conscious when your legs were freed from the rocks because they feel almost mangled in spite of the bandages.

Never mind your injuries for now— because your eyes land on the men to your left, all four of them sleeping sitting up in blue metal chairs. You recognize them, you know them. There's no mistaking that out-of-place skull mask, that silly-looking mohawk, the person wearing sunglasses inside of a hospital, and lastly, the man with the boonie hat that he never takes off. “Cap?” You quietly say, your voice (thankfully) restored now. “Johnny?” You call out to your sergeant instead, and he mumbles something under his breath as he starts to wake up, but his grogginess almost instantly fades away when he realizes you’re conscious. “Y/N?” Soap responds back, and you barely have any moment to respond with another word because he practically dashes and pulls you into an embrace. You almost wince at how tight he’s hugging you, but you grin and squeeze him back.

A throaty voice breaks the silence, saying, “Stand down, sergeant. They’re still hurt ya know?” You assume it’s your captain— who you didn’t know had already woken up in that short span of time. He gets up from his chair and walks over to you until he’s at the side of your medical bed, right next where Soap is still hugging you. You can tell Price is relieved you’re okay, but you also know he’s trying to keep his composure and not reveal all his worry. “You alright, soldier?” He asks you, attempting to pry Johnny off your body, huffing when he just latches on harder. You answer with a simple, “Aye, sir.” As the man clinging to you finally lets go. “I almost bled out there, damn. That was a close call.” You finally say after a few moments of silence, and you’re sure Price and Soap have the same exact thought in their minds. “And so would the others, if they were awake.” Price adds with a chuckle, turning his head to glance over to the other two, still sound and sleeping.

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manicscreeching · 2 years ago

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Make of me a garden

I stagger along blindly, arms held ahead as a futile shield against the biting wind and blinding snow. The winter is harsh and long, and there is no salvation to be found amongst the frigid dunes and pallid streets. Around me stretches a city, once proud, now humbled by the fury of nature and folly of man. A ruin wrought by hubris and willing ignorance. There are still remnants, those unlucky few who, like me, scurry through wrecked streets scavenging for scraps, fighting through the rubble as our forefathers did, and so too theirs; tattered banners held aloft as if they still hold meaning, bitter men acting out of stubborn spite to make sure that if they cannot win, then nor shall anyone else. It doesn't matter now. Winter is here, and its armies cannot be defeated. We shall die to lances of ice and blades of hunger. I stumble and fall, my legs finally failing, collapsing under me, leaving me curled up in the snow. I try to move, to rally some last gasp of defiance. Some will to live despite the odds. Nothing comes. I will die here, I realise, dimly. I should probably feel upset. Perhaps resigned. Angry, even. Instead I just feel numb. And cold. Above me the wind howls its ferocious battlecries as it scours the streets of life. I move, pulling myself to a wall, propping myself up against it, until my arms too fail, leaving me stranded. A puppet with strings cut. It occurs that I don't feel cold anymore. Hope blossoms faintly, far off and growing farther. Maybe I'll live. I'm warming up, not even shivering. I just need to stand up and get moving again. I try but somehow my body doesn't respond. I'm even warmer now. Hot even. Too hot. It's like I'm on fire. And then that too fades.

My breathing is the first thing to go. Lungs frozen. Then my heart stops, starved to death. My consciousness fades, my last thoughts a confused mess of memory and delirium.

I die.

The sun sets, rises, sets again. The storm passes. The sun rises in a clear sky. A raven comes to land upon my knee, head cocked as it examines my frozen carcass. Curiously it hops forward, head twisted to the side, black eye meeting my blank gaze. It turns to me again and pecks my cheek, quickly drawing back as if expecting me to wake. I do not. Apparently satisfied, it hops closer again, still cautious. Its head draws back and then its beak plunges into my eyeball, gripping hard as it pulls. Once, twice, thrice, and the eye tears free in a sudden jolt of movement. It stumbles slightly before regaining its footing. Bending its head backwards, the raven gulps the eye down greedily, blood shining against its matte beak. It swallows, hops onto my shoulder, and then takes my other eye, cawing happily after it swallows it down. Apparently sated, the raven takes flight. Night falls, and with it more snow. I am covered, naught but another corpse in this sepulchral ruin. Time moves on. The snow thaws, falls, thaws once more. Night and day have no meaning anymore. The raven returns. It takes my tongue, happily tearing away until it is fulfilled, then flapping up to the building above me to croon away the hours. Time passes. The snow falls less often. It rains. I thaw and begin to rot. The raven enjoys my frostbitten fingers when they grow soft enough to eat. A dog is drawn by the stench of decay. It tears into my midriff, revealing the sumptuous guts within. The dog and the raven eat together: I am plentiful, so there is no need for conflict. The dog sleeps beside me, the raven perched above. Days pass. A frost comes, unusually late. The raven shelters within my carcass, protected from the cold. The dog has lived through worse. The cold passes. Time moves on. The dog leaves, my body now stripped almost bare. The raven remains, pecking at the flesh which still clings to my bones. There is a crack in the tarmac in front of me, from which a small green shoot emerges. The shoot grows. The raven makes a nest in my ribcage. Time passes. Another raven arrives. A mouse chews its way into my skull. The ravens hatch chicks. The mouse builds a nest. The shoot grows. Time passes. The ravens leave the nest. Winter comes. Winter goes. The mouse finds a mate. The ravens have more chicks. The shoot grows into a sapling. The dog returns. The mice leave. The dog has pups. The sapling grows, cracking the tarmac. The pups leave. The dog dies. The ravens eat the dog. The sapling becomes a tree. Leaves fall and rot and become dirt. The dirt grows grass. The grass dies and becomes dirt. I am smothered, my bones scattered and buried. Flowers grow atop me, their roots wrapping about my bones as once I trailed my fingers through their heads. Ivy wreaths the wall above me, grass carpeting what once was road. A tall tree stretches over me: its branches spread wide, its verdant leaves casting a patchwork quilt of dappled shadow, spots of golden sunlight warming my yellowed bones. A raven perches atop my skull, pecking at it fondly, its feathers gleam under the warm sun, ruffled slightly by a balmy summer's breeze as the leaves above susurrate and rustle. I feel the loam around me, so full of life. I hear the grass growing, the insects working tirelessly, a happy caw from the tree branches. I see a black silhouette circling lazily on high.

I am a garden.

I grow.

I rest.

#writing #short story #life through death

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static-void · 2 years ago

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long fucker below

Static's thoughts on Specific Food/Items/Creatures

(Bear in mind that this is from the perspective of someone who has the ability to just bite into shit wholesale. With most of these, if it's a mob drop, they're talking about the item. If it's a mob, they're talking about biting the Physical Creature) -Rotten flesh: "I mean. It's rotten flesh. It is flesh, and it is edible, but it's not the best. Flesh from husks isn't too bad, it's just really dry. Drowned have vile flesh though. It's soggy and salty and gross. Normal zombies...somewhere in the middle. Probably the closest to actual dried meat re: texture, but tastewise it could be better. Viable food though." -Spider Eyes: "They're worse than rotten flesh. Since they're poisonous. Taste-wise...I mean, taste-wise, they're not horrible, just kinda bland. But they're poisonous. I'd eat em in an emergency, but I'd eat rotten flesh first." -Cows: "They're. They're cows. Take a bit of raw beef and eat it, and then eat a bunch more of it, and that's about what it's like. Messy, though. To be honest, unless it's a chicken, eating anything whole is messy. Chickens aren't as messy. Cows are horrifically messy, though." -Sheep: "If they're not sheared, it's like eating a bloody blanket. If they are sheared...again, it's literally just mutton. With some extra bits, yes, but...it's still pretty simple!" -Pigs: "It's Pork. Not as messy as cows or sheep, but still messy. They are arguably the easiest of the four-leggeds to bite through, though." -Chickens: "Definitely the easiest animal to eat, particularly because they also die pretty quick. I don't have to use my hands, one bite is generally enough. The feathers kinda suck, though." -Skeletons? "I mean, I can break their bones and get at the marrow, but to be honest it's not really worth it for me. If someone came up to me and asked 'hey, I have some open bones, you want some marrow?' I wouldn't refuse, but it's more work than it's worth to do it myself."

-Creepers: "I can eat creepers. Strictly speaking. Trying to actually do it without them blowing up in my face is hard, though. And gunpowder...well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

-Spiders: "Believe me when I say that biting into a spider wholesale raw is worse than biting into a zombie. Because they have exoskeletons, everything inside is wet and goopy and sometimes barely contained and it's gross. Zombies? They have bones, their bodies are actually structured in a way that isn't Juice World. I've eaten spiders before and it was only when I was very desperate and very hungry. Cave spiders are even worse because they're poisonous. Big spiders aren't poisonous on their own, 's just their eyes."

-Zombies: "It's...it's basically just biting a person, but the person is undead. Unpleasant taste, even more unpleasant smell most of the time unless it's a husk. They don't bleed a whole lot. They're kinda dry. The one upside to them compared to players is that zombies are stupid, so it's easy to just rip out whatever's keeping them up and then they're down. Oh, and the morality bit."

-Hoglins: "Ok. Take a pig. Make it extremely tough. Like, 'I left my steak in a very hot, very dry furnace for a day' tough. Let the meat sit on netherrack far from lava for a while, maybe a couple months. Don't cook it, let the nether heat do its thing. Now eat it. That's what hoglin is like. Also good fucking luck killing them without a sword, their outer hide is like hardened leather. I can bite through it, but they need to be stunned or else I'll get thrown off."

-Piglins: "Kinda a mix between hoglins and people, honestly. They're pretty tough, but they're humanoid, so they lack a bit of the Oomph that hoglins have."

-Zombified Piglins: "Ew. Gross. Nasty. They're hot from the nether and they taste like rotten pork. Absolutely one of the worst things to eat, down there with spiders."

-Striders: "They're Too Fuckin Hot. Even when they're cold. Biting into one feels like drinking a lava bucket. It's not even worth it, they taste like rocks."

-Silverfish: "It's a bit like spiders, just less juice."

-Endermites: "My mouthparts are specifically adapted for ender-beings. Because I crawled out of the Void. Anyways. Endermites just feel normal to eat. They're not especially tasty, and I don't like the fact that they're bugs, but they feel normal enough. Still don't eat em often, though."

-Endermen: "As far as natural instinct goes, Endermen are probably the most natural thing for me to go after. Pearls, specifically. They have a good mouthfeel, and they're pitifully easy to incapacitate if you have foot-long razor sharp knives coming out of your mouth. I avoid eating them, though. Get a bit weird when I do."

-Ghasts: "I've tried. Doesn't work. It's because their core is so far in, you'd have to be lucky to get at it. Seriously, have you ever touched a ghast? They don't feel like much unless you're touching the center."

-Vexes: "They give me indigestion."

Items:

-Mushrooms (any): "I mean. They're mushrooms, right? They...they just taste like mushrooms! Warped 'shrooms taste a bit funky, sort of like an enderman but fermented, and crimson 'shrooms are just spicy!"

-String: "Noooooo, any fiber like that I can't eat. You try eating string."

-Gunpowder: "If you want me to die and leave behind a significant crater, sure."

-Slime: "Slime is...slime, it's a slime ball, it's sticky and tastes vaguely like swampwater."

-Redstone: "I mean...as far as things I've put in my mouth? Not the worst. Far from the best, but not the worst. Did turn me funny colors for a bit though."

-Netherwart: "Netherwart...hm. It...just drink an awkward potion, to be honest. The weird taste that isn't water is netherwart"

-Blaze Powder: "Blaze powder is just painful."

-Heart of the Sea: "I've eaten one or two. They sort of just taste like fish, though."

-Nether Stars: "I can eat nether stars, yeah. It's just that they give me a migraine and also the last time I ate one I blew a hole through bedrock, which isn't something I'm keen on repeating."

#i paraphrased on a couple #there was an addition i took out of the silverfish one bc i can't remember what i was implying #it literally just says [redacted for unsettling behavior] so. yknow #thorn post

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years ago

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hello ! this is my first time sending an ask and i had to say i love your writing and im excited to see where deep sea is going <3 the world youre building is so interesting and i cant wait to see whats going on with maiko darling!! i wanted to ask, whats your planning process like for longer fics like this, or how do you normally write fics in general? ive been lowkey wanting to get into writing fanfic, but im not sure how to start, especially since i worry abt writing a character wrong 😭

OMG this ask,, thank you so very much!!! deep sea ended up turning into more of a lengthy project than i originally anticipated, not that i'm complaining. i think there's a lot to explore there and i'm excited to get to everything that i have planned. as for my writing process... i learned a lot from hell within reach, which i started last year, since it was my first venture into novel length territory hrjtmkg (i still need to finish the last chapter but i'll get to it eventually). i think the main thing i learned is that organization, my greatest weakness, is vital for long fics/stories in general.

deep sea's development has been a touch cleaner than HWR since i've been trying to apply what i learned. to give some insight into the process, it looked like:

early early planning phase: getting a rough idea of what i wanted, mostly the reader’s story and how it relates to scaramouche. not very structured. just lots of ideas that didn’t even play off each other yet. i messed around with various possibilities, just kinda throwing stuff at the wall to see what would stick. brainstorming and such.

research phase: basically what i talked about in this post! i did reading, watched interviews, the like. took a bunch of notes, made a vocabulary list, the works. this is also where i came up for the name of deep sea’s okiya, shinju-an. i ran the name through a good friend of mine who is fluent in japanese to see if my research on naming teahouses was correct, which it apparently was. phew.

plot outline 1.0: a bare bones outline. breaking down every character’s motivation, how that would move the plot along, etc. i ended up scrapping like 80% of plot outline 1.0, but the core elements remained the same.

writing chapter 1 and crying: basically what it sounds like... kinda a rough test to see how well i could (or couldn’t) pull all these various concepts together into something coherent.

plot outline 2.0: at this point certain things go on the chopping block. i shed a tear for each idea i liked that i must get rid of so the story makes literally any sense to anyone who isn’t me . this is where i changed misato’s role in the story (very drastically), started fleshing out maiko darling’s backstory more, along with how keiko and ishioka would impact the overall narrative rather than making them like. forgettable background characters. it was mostly the very middle of the story/the end that gave me trouble... i’m still slightly undecided on the specifics of the ending, but the general idea is figured out.

back to chapter 1 with Mostly everything figured out: most of the first chapter was finished, i just went through and cleaned it up. added lil hints that made me feel sneaky. started wondering why i put so much effort into yandere genshin impact fanfic and not my schoolwork.

some important things to note — every time i felt discouraged or blocked by not knowing where the story should go next, i forced myself to take a break rather than soldiering in. this was kinda a new technique for me. i normally like to have everything Nice and Clean and Finished as soon as possible. i feel as if this mindset helped me a lot in the long run! a good night’s sleep is sometimes the best remedy to feeling frustrated when the story isn’t coming out like how you pictured. there’s nothing wrong with taking breaks.

as for how i write my regular, non multi-chaptered fanfic... i kinda... just wing it. 😭 i’m sorry that probably sounds very disappointing. i wanted to challenge myself with deep sea, but for my other fics, i consider it more of a fun outlet. i’ll get an idea i like, start writing without ceasing, get to the end, and then look back/edit through the mess i just typed. it’s a lot more simple.

#sweet asks #deep sea #answered #Anonymous

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lepusrufus · 3 years ago

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Wrong victim

Pure comedic self indulgence because we all need a funny break before shit starts to really go down in To bargain for immortality. Set quite a few years after the game events, around 2025, and is pure ridiculousness so enjoy.

////

Her response to being unceremoniously shoved in the back seat of a car that looked like it's seen far better days was merely an annoyed grunt. It turned into an eye roll when the man that climbed in after her pulled everything out of her pockets.

"Wouldn't want you calling anyone," he said with a toothy grin while waving her phone in front of her.

"Trust me, that won't be necessary," she replied in a deadpan voice. It's not like she would call the police, she wanted them involved even less than her kidnappers probably did. As for other people she could reach out to, a phone call would be redundant really. "Do be careful with it, I'd hate to lose the photos of Daniela sleeping upside down."

After maybe ten minutes of driving down the barely illuminated outskirts of the city, and having her pockets emptied, dagger included, the burly man driving pulled up inside a parking lot. It was large and overgrown with weeds and vines reclaiming spaces that had been left without human activity for who knows how long. The lamp posts were nothing more than useless concrete pillars as they provided no illumination, resulting in her pitiful captors having to use flashlights as they made their way into the dilapidated factory.

Nicole sneered at the sight of collapsed walls and rusty metal walkways, reminding her of the one particular Lord she couldn't stand the sight of. She decided a distraction was needed from unpleasant memories.

"Abandoned factory?" She whistled. "How many cliche movies have you guys watched?"

She let out a chuckle when the man that had previously taken her phone shoved her ahead. Hopefully they wouldn't tape her mouth shut, there was so much fun to be had by mockery alone.

It didn't take long before all three of them entered a dimly lit room, numerous candles placed all around, either on desks or candle supports nailed to the walls. The three more people inside were wearing long black robes and white masks covering their faces. Nicole had to laugh.

"Oh so you're that kinda crazy."

"Shut the fuck up and stay put," the man holding her hands behind her back said while pushing her into a chair.

He then moved to a table and Nicole couldn't help but scowl at how unceremoniously her beloved dagger had been thrown on the wooden surface. Afterwards, he put on a mask not unlike the others, except with red streaks going down from the eye holes, and started to prepare something in the middle of the room. The others joined in on the task, all but the one man that had been put in charge of making sure Nicole stayed put. Because of course she could easily escape five people much bigger than her at any given moment.

She decided to take a look around, at the various dusty books opened on pages she couldn't quite make out from where she was sitting. A few pages were laying around, either with diagrams or with scribbled notes. Had she really stumbled upon a cult? She couldn't wait to have a laugh about it with her family.

"So," she started, craning her neck a little so she could see her captor's face. "Who you gonna sacrifice me to huh? I wanna know before you slice up my throat or whatever you're planning on."

A confused and suspicious look was thrown her way, surely due to the complete nonchalance she spoke with about what would surely be her untimely death. "The… the devil," was his unsure reply.

Nicole let out a small laugh. "Oh trust me, you do not want to meet her. Though devil is not quite the word," she continued despite a few other pairs of eyes landing on her. "Maybe a pissy fungal overlord with an unhealthy obsession for crows. Yes that's more like it," she finished with another chuckle.

The man with a slightly different mask, who seemed to be their self appointed leader, got up from where he was nailing something to the floor and walked up to her in a few long strides. His eyes were barely visible, but anger was clearly distinguishable.

He pulled out a knife, old, rusty and with a black worn out handle so typical of a kitchen utensil, and so incredibly ugly compared to the beautifully ornate daggers that decorated her home. She had to laugh when the dull blade got pressed to her throat.

"Will you shut up for one minute?!" He raised his voice slightly, as much as someone who was doing something they didn't wish to be caught doing would dare to. It didn't deter her though.

"Oh sweetie this is just what foreplay looks to me," she started with a grin that made her wish she had fangs like the better part of her relatives. "But please do me a favor and stay quiet, there's no fun in hunting if my darling finds you within five seconds due to you screeching like a broken squeaky toy."

The man blinked for a few seconds, taken aback both by the words and by the apparent passivity towards having a knife at her throat. He stayed like that until one person that was working with some ropes behind interjected.

"Of all the people you could've taken, how did you find this unhinged bitch?!"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Nicole said, bending slightly to the side so the person that had spoken up would have a clear view of her sickly sweet smile.

After that exchange, her captors seemed happy to move things along quicker, working in silence and begrudgingly ignoring any remarks she would throw their way, including an observation on the downright dreadful quality of the rope they had. Quality that she regrettably got to experience when her wrist and ankles got tied to the nails in the floor, having her lay down in a starfish position. It kind of reminded her of sprawling on the bed she shared with Cassandra simply to annoy the brunette.

After loudly reciting something in latin, the leader bent down, same rusty knife in hand, and tipped her chin upwards to expose the neck. She did let out a wince when the blade sunk deep in her flesh and got dragged downward, towards her chest, leaving behind a choking sensation and the taste of copper in her mouth. The knife however only made it to the base of her neck, before the sound of metal crashing caught everyone's attention.

"What the fuck," the man whispered, thankfully pulling the blade out so her skin had the time to begin stitching itself back together. She still had to turn her head around and spit some blood that made its way into her mouth.

Before anyone else had a chance to speak up, the door was kicked open, one of the rusty hinges breaking completely, to reveal a rather angry Cassandra with her sickle in hand, ready for bloodshed.

There were a few seconds of stunned silence before the blade was unceremoniously thrown into the first person's skull, spinning through the air for only a few meters before getting embedded into the bone with a sloshing sound. Anyone else trying to escape through the one door was met with a similar fate. One person had their knees kicked inwards before a knife held at the same belt as the sickle came down to slash their throat. Another had their head smashed to bits against the nearest wall in the blink of an eye. And last, the burly man that had driven and kept an eye on Nicole, had his heart ripped through the bottom of his ribcage when Cassandra shoved him against one of the tables, scattering the books and papers that were by then stained crimson.

The remaining man, the leader, got grabbed by the shoulders and forcefully shoved into the same chair she had been sitting in not too long ago.

"Stay put and I'll let you live," Cassandra spoke, all the cruelty polished over decades upon decades of sporting the title of the family's most sadistic coming through those few words.

He gulped and nodded, eyes glossed over by the pure human terror now so unfamiliar to both of them.

She then turned around, expression softening like a switch had been turned behind golden eyes. "Nicole," she started, barely an edge of concern and irritation at the sight of her wife's bloody skin.

"Hi babe." The self satisfied grin almost had the brunette chuckling while she retrieved her sickle and Nicole's things.

The weapon was used to cut her free, a grimace pulling the corners of her black lips downward at the same quality observation her wife had priorly made, no doubt. A hand was offered to Nicole to pull herself up, while the other presented the familiar dagger that was gifted to her so many years ago.

"Will you do the honors love," Cassandra asked, with that beautifully sadistic smile.

"Of course," came Nicole's reply as her hand wrapped around the leather covered handle.

With some of the wretched ropes gathered from the ground, Cassandra made quick work of the man's hands and legs, securely tied to the chair and voice frantic.

"You said you would let me live!"

Cassandra laughed, a low ominous sound, while grabbing the mask and throwing it on the floor. She did love to see the terror in her victims' faces after all.

"Unfortunately my wife made no such promises," she finished with a forceful pull of hair that kept his head in one place as she moved to the back of the chair.

Nicole approached with the dagger already out of its holster and tapped the blade's point against her lips in thought for a few moments. She could simply slice his throat and be done with it, or stab him and leave him to bleed out, choking on his own blood. A hum made its way past her lips. No, no that would not do.

She grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt, pulling it up almost to the neck. After a few mental measurements and approximations were made, the tip of the blade finally found its way into muscle, drawing thin trails of blood and pained screams. It took a good five minutes to carve all the intricate details she wanted to, the swirling patterns cutting cleanly through skin, courtesy of her wife keeping the blade sharp and in top condition.

After she was content with the level of detail, and screams subsided to pathetic sobs, she took a step back and, with a hum, looked at Cassandra for a reaction.

"Oh dearest," the brunette said, looking over the man's shoulder and down at the bloody cuts on his abdomen and chest, forming a crude yet not unfitting replica of the Dimitrescu crest.

At the adoration that made its way past the cruelty in her wife's eyes, Nicole smiled and gingerly took a hold of her unoccupied hand, bringing it close to her lips and leaving a small kiss and a barely visible blood imprint on each knuckle.

"I take it that you approve of my… design choice," she asked with another glance down at the jagged lines that formed their family's symbol.

"It's wonderful," Cassandra replied, fangs shimmering slightly in the low light, exposed from the proud smile that tugged at her lips.

A gorgeous smile, really, that made something swell inside Nicole's chest no matter how many times she saw it. Truth be told, her rendition of the crest was quite lacking, never having had the artistic skills to quite capture the intricate details that formed it. Nevertheless, if it brought a smile to her wife's lips, she was more than content with it. How unfortunate that it had to be ruined.

She let out a sigh, still holding Cassandra's hand. "Too bad those pigs at the BSAA would quite disapprove of us leaving such things behind. Oh well," she shrugged, bringing the hand she was holding over to the man's abdomen. "Better it be ruined at your hands."

The next second, claws dug deep into flesh, slicing the muscle and everything underneath all the way up to the throat. It left five deep gashes over the fine cuts of her dagger, but the satisfaction did not dwindle. On the contrary, when the gurgling sounds finally stopped and the body went limp, her smile was still there, turning into light laughter when Cassandra licked her fingers only to visibly cringe.

"Say what you will about the dungeons, but at least we feed our livestock well," she spat, taking out a napkin from a pocket and wiping her fingers clean. "But with that disgusting thing out of the way, let me help you with that," she continued, grimace morphing into a sly smile when her eyes landed on Nicole's still bloody neck.

She gave her no time to disagree, not that she would, before she pushed her backwards slightly into the edge of a table. Nicole wasted no time in lifting herself up on the wooden surface, bringing their faces just a tad closer to being on the same level.

Cassandra dipped her head down, lips leaving teasing feather-like kisses on her jaw before lowering even further so she could drag her tongue up the length of her neck. It made a shiver run down Nicole's spine, that turned into an impatient tug of her wife's hair when the motion was repeated again and again, until no traces of blood could be seen on her neck, save for the crimson stains that made their way to the hem of her shirt.

Their lips met in a hungry kiss, full of fangs and smeared lipstick and the taste of copper so familiar to the both of them, albeit for different reasons. When Nicole's hands went to the first buttons of Cassandra's blouse, their kiss was broken with a sly smirk.

"This is such a dreadful place for such things, don't you think," the brunette said, all too amused by her wife's exasperated sigh.

"You started it," Nicole complained, but before the words were fully out of her mouth, she was tugged off the table and on the way out, ready to get back home and have a laugh about the irony of her capture. They would have to pick up where they left off at a later time.

#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #unhinged maiden™ my beloved #tw: gore #cassandra being cassantra and comin to save her wifey #don't take this as a clue to how the mutation sequel may turn out #fanfic

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f4gdilf · 4 years ago

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𝗜𝗭𝗨𝗞𝗨 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗬𝗔 𝘅 𝗧𝗢𝗣 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

𝗔/𝗡; 𝗜 𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗹𝗼𝗹. 𝗔𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝗶𝘇𝘂𝗸𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺. 𝗗𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 @sinfulcries 𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲.

𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗦; 𝟭,𝟱𝟮𝟴

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦; 𝗗𝗘𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗝𝗢𝗕𝗦, 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗦𝗣𝗔𝗡𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗡 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬, 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗔 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗪𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗫, 𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗙𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦, 𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗬 𝗪𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗜𝗭𝗨𝗞𝗨 𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔 𝗪𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗞.

You could barely remember when this exchange first started.

One second, you were chatting with the Number One pro hero, Deku, Taking him on a small lunch date and before you knew it, you two were involved in an even more sexual relationship.

To be honest, You didn’t know you Two were sinning as much as you were. Deku never told you about his girlfriend, A fellow pro hero named Uravity.

You know...Uraraka Ochako, Current Number 5 in rescue heroes.

Your eyes narrowed towards Izuku as his built frame entered your apartment, Looking pathetically chaotic. It's likely because his patrol ended an hour ago and he probably hurried here. He knew you saw the news about him and Uraraka dating since high school.

Your large hand gripped lightly at your favorite mug filled with warm black coffee “so..” you took a loud sip, warmth filling your entire body “..why are you here? Don't you feel bad about cheating on your girlfriend?” you mocked, steamy mug still rested on your lips “or did you perhaps come to say farewell?”

“S-sir..” you rolled your eyes. he only calls you that in bed, no wonder he came without saying anything. The Little Bitch wants some goodbye sex.

Midoriya bit his lip in nervousness, impatience filled him. He took a step forward, Feet encased in the Shaggy carpet below him. You eyed him curiously, watching as he removed any leftover space between your bodies.

You held out a hand, stopping him momentarily before he got too close. Izuku grimaced as his cheeks lit up in disgrace. This was embarrassing enough to crawl to you like some slut. You should be crawling towards him, begging to fuck him instead.

For some reason, he kind of liked the humiliation, his small cock twitching in need and anticipation. His abdomen felt like there was a fire igniting inside of it. And a small sheepish smile worked itself on his delicate face as his rough hands gripped the one that was holding him off.

Curiosity and arouse was the only thing you could feel right now. His hands placed yours and moved it towards his crotch. “I came here for you, sir” his calm voice called out as your guided hand finally arrived at its destination.

His grip softened onto your lone hand. His small cock was rock hard, you could feel it pressing against you from behind the thick fabric that trapped it. You undid his sturdy belt and let his pants fall towards his bruised knees. Oh would you look at this, the slut didn't bother to wear underwear today.

It surprised you that Uraraka stayed with him for this long, his small cock looked like it could barely get anyone off. It hardly reached under his belly button. The cock itself looked very pretty though. The head isn’t bulbous or red, but it’s rather a nice shade of pink. He takes consideration of himself down there. He trims, cleans, and even gets waxes to make sure everything looks hairless and smooth.

Your hand clutched tighter onto his pathetic cock making him whine and shudder. “You like that? Little slut..” you insulted, Itching to bend him over and take him from behind right then and there.

Your fingers grazed upon him, stroking and pulling across his length. Izuku’s whines began to grow louder as your torment continued. “P-please sir I'm gonna c-cum” he stuttered, trembling and rough hands grabbing onto anything he could reach.

“Cumming already? We just started~” Your smooth and silky voice teased, “Aren’t you ashamed for Fucking an innocent civilian while your girlfriend is probably risking her life on the streets?” your stroking pace ceased for a moment, eyes pointing towards his Pretty face now.

He flushed heavily, head turned to the side in hopes you wouldn't see how flustered he was. Izuku mumbled something that your ears could barely pick up “hmm not that I care anyway, you're only an onahole to use.” you glared.

You moved from his cock and clenched his small hips, the Wide bones felt like they were poking from the thick skin coating it. Other than that, His milky skin felt soft and smooth, he puts on lotion and other body products before bed so it would make sense.

You stood hastily, Izuku didn't have time to comprehend the sharp movement before you snatched his left arm and speedily walked towards the bathroom. Like hell you'd let this slut’s cum get onto your expensive mattress.

Midoriya unwillingly trembled at your manhandling, although you were just a plain civilian, and Midoriya could easily push you off, he didn’t.

Because he was a cum slut and would spread his legs for anyone.

You caught sight of the Shower knob and twisted it tightly so the showerhead above would start. And so it did. Warm water in multiple heavy spurts rained onto you both.

Clothes Started clinging on bodies, water started wetting hair, and Bodies started warming up.

Izuku stumbled for a bit, drunk off of a deterred orgasm. before shakily pulling his wet clothing off of him until he was fully nude. It wasn't anything you haven't seen before.

“Are you fucking with me? One time wasn't enough for you?” You scoffed after seeing the numerous Hickeys lacing his fair-skinned neck. It seemed like this slut and Ochako has been Fucking recently. Unless he'd been cheating with someone entirely different.

“Your girlfriend couldn't satisfy your needs, slut?" You grumbled, "or perhaps do you just yearn for the highs of cheating?"

Izuku could get off a million times with that explicit mouth of yours. It filled him with Joy watching you get jealous.

He craved more.

No, needed more.

You had everything Uraraka didn't, it's like he was meant to end up with you instead. Uraraka couldn't satisfy his desires, she was always too soft during sex and only treated him like glass.

He needed a big fat cock to worship and fuck every day, she obviously didn't have that so that's where you came to play.

You made him work for your pleasure and not the other way around. He was made just for you.

“Bend over and show me my prize” you dictated, too impatient for foreplay and just wanting to punish this disgusting whore. A couple of tense seconds passed. “Did you not fucking hear me? I said bend. Over.” You watched as Izuku gave a feeble nod before twisting and presenting his ass for you.

Your smooth hands moved lightly on his milky pale cheeks, they felt like clouds in the palm of your hands. His ass was definitely the reason you continued hooking up with him. It was like touching two soft marshmallows. Soon enough Izuku inhaled sharply as your hand came down harsh on his ass. The pain was duplicated with the high pressured water pelting over him.

Of course, you didn't care if he was in pain. The jiggle from his cheeks looks amazing and almost delectable.

You followed up with three more harsh whacks across his arse, reaching further than a dozen or so blindingly rapid blows, and Midoriya nibbled on his lips, trying his hardest not to jerk away from the successive blows. He didn't want to disappoint you, though Just the thought of you getting mad enough to fuck him for hours made his tiny cock twitch in need.

"P-please...sir.." Midoriya wailed. The teasing was starting to get too much for him. Izuku’s legs quiver by the time you ceased landing blows onto his arse which was pretty pink at the second. You could easily deduce the marks of your hands.

Midoriya cried submissively as the pain was frigid, fierce, and much more severe, far more harsher than the other times you've basically made his arse a bongo drum. considering you didn't have an intense job, What kind of innocent civilian is this strong?

You yanked Izuku’s hips, and whirled him so his ass hit the tiled wall, he let out a relieved cry. the icy tiles comforted his stinging ass.

You pinned Izuku closely against the tile wall, your hips dwelling against his. Your thick cock grazing upon his dainty flesh. You briefly glimpsed low at Izuku, shaking your head when you spot his erection.

"Hm, you dirty slut. Getting off on me degrading you" you smirked, gouging your nail into the slit seeping with a drastic amount of precum.

The sharp pain made Midoriya shudder, clenching around your wrist.

"Mm, sir..." Midoriya whimpered, "...please, please...fuck me, I'll do anything.." your narrowed eyes widened in surprise, honestly considering the offer “Anything, you say?” your voice traveled through the steaming shower as you leaned in closer to his right ear.

“Even break up with your girlfriend?” You whispered, tongue peeking out and glazing on his outer ear, across the helix and trailing downward before lightly biting down.

Izuku moaned quietly “O-of course sir, I'll do anything” that certainly wasn't a lie- the man would do absolutely anything for another taste of that thick muscle between your legs. Even separate from the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. And you know why? Because he's your desperate slut.

#✍︎︎𝗪𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗪𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗠𝗿 𝗝𝗲𝗮𝗻 #⚠︎︎𝗗𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 #⚠︎︎𝗦𝗽𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 #⚠︎︎𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗣𝗹𝗮𝘆 #⚠︎︎𝗖𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 #dark content #dark blog #male reader #top male reader

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mermaidxatxheart · 3 years ago

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Better Together Chapter 3

Here's chapter three. I'll keep this short. Let me know what you think. If you like this chapter and want to be added to my tag list, please let me know. Reblogs are most welcome, it lets others view my work. Comments are even better, it lets me know I'm doing a good job-we all need validation once in a while.

Word Count: 3155

Warnings: Violence, language, Poe being cute.

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

The cliffs are further than you originally thought. Your legs are cramping, throbbing. Poe lets you rest as long as he can but it’s still crucial to reach the elusive cliffs before dark.

He helps you over massive logs, crooked roots, down sharp hills. His hands are firm on your waist as he lifts you over fallen branches, they’re steady in yours as he helps you clamber over the gnarled roots.

He never once complains, never once tells you to get over it, never once makes you feel weak or useless. Every once in a while, he’ll glance over his shoulder at you, his pretty eyes lingering on your face for a second before smiling. You can feel his eyes on you as you stoop to gather the vegetation samples. He’s never intrusive, only giving his help when you request it.

“I’ve thought of another reason the bugs are so big.” You huff, hauling yourself over another massive branch.

“Tell me.” He wipes his forehead.

“The trees are so big, they’re pumping so much O2 into the air that the bugs can get big enough to take as much as they need in.”

“Come again?”

“Bugs have big tubes that intake oxygen through their skin to their organs, bypassing the need for lungs. In the places we’ve populated, the oxygen level is way down compared to this place. They’d die before the air ever gets to their organs.”

“How do you fit so much in that brain of yours?” He chuckles and you roll your eyes, clinging to his shoulders as he lifts you over another root.

Finally-finally, the base of the cliffs come into view and you let out a sigh of relief. The light is already getting dimmer, so you’re just barely in time. Then you take a second to look up at the sheer wall of rocks in front of you. It shoots straight up, higher than you can even see at this range. The edge disappears into the clouds and you know there’s no way you can climb to the top. You’ll have to find a way around.

But maybe, if there’s a natural cave system, the mechs can make a decent base inside.

You follow Poe along the wall, resisting the urge to drop your arms. Now that the end of your day is in sight, your shoulders feel tighter than ever after holding your holopad in front of you all day.

Up ahead. You can see the shadow darker than the rest surrounding it. Poe seems to already have spotted it, turning towards it. His head swivels around to glance at the forest behind you.

“How’s that gut, kid?” He tosses over his shoulder at you and you want to make a snide remark about being the same age. But you don’t.

“Hard to tell. Relieved at finding the cave. But.” You leave it hanging.

“But.” He agrees, turning towards the entrance of the cave. He digs into his bag, pulling out a torch. You take it from him, falling into step next to him.

“Poe,” you start, shining the light towards the back of the cave.

“We’ll just go back about two hundred feet, just to make sure it’s empty. Then we’ll camp at the entrance.” He promises, looking over at you. You nod and follow him back. The sharp pebbles littering the cave floor jab into the bottom of your feet, but complaining about it won’t do much good now.

Two hundred feet back and it’s clear, no bones, no signs of a nest. Good to camp in. Poe shoulders his long gun and turns towards you, taking your hand and leading you back to the mouth of the cave.

“I’ll go get some firewood, start setting up camp.” He says, squeezing your hand once before leaving the cave once more.

You glance nervously towards the darkness behind you, before starting to pull materials out of your bag. You manage to scrape out an even space for two sleeping bags and a campfire in the middle. You get the meal rations out just as he starts to come back with his muscular arms full of wood.

“Looks good.” He comments, dumping the hardwood off to the side. While he sets up the fire, your eyes are searching the trees across from the cave, the splintered shards of rock creating a beach almost, a boundary from the thick grass.

You can still hear the creaking and groaning from the trees. At some points, with the right echo, it’s almost as if they’re alive. The trees sound as though they’re moving, waking up as the last of the light disappears. The constant groans during the day were just them shifting in their sleep, now they’re ready to move.

Did they sense the presence of two tiny beings crawling around them? Are they coming for you now? Or are you too minuscule in comparison and therefore not worth the hassle?

“What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” Poe asks, looking up from the crackling fire.

“What if the trees are alive?” You ask worriedly and he laughs, pushing himself to come over and stand behind you.

“Okay, you’re way too tense. The trees aren’t alive. The wind is picking up out there, I think the temperature is about to drop. It’s natural for wood to expand and contract as it shifts. And if they are alive? Well, they’re too fucking tall to get us in here. I didn’t cut any trees to get this wood, just picked up what was scattered around.” He promises, those big, warm hands settling on your shoulders. You tense at the sudden touch, but it’s Poe-he's not going to hurt you. He would never hurt you.

“I might be a little uptight.” You admit sheepishly.

“It’s all the lack of orgasming.” He teases.

You open your mouth to fire back, but then his thumbs press deliciously into the flesh of your back and shoulders, and you’re cut off with a strangled moan. He squeezes, and then drags his thumbs up towards your hairline, your head dropping forward onto your chest and electric arcs race along your spine. He alternates his thumbs, pushing in and stroking upward on either side of your spinal column. Heat spirals through you as he slowly, methodically works all the tight muscles out of your back and shoulders. All the stress from worrying, all the aches from carrying the heavy pack and your holopad all day.

“Poe-“ you groan and he chuckles, guiding you forward to lay face down on your sleeping bag.

“Relax. We’ll eat in a minute.” He says softly, his breath ghosting across the back of your neck. His hands are strong, manipulating your flesh to get all the knots out along your back. He uses his knuckles to work out the taut muscles between your shoulder blades, easing the tension out of the bands of overworked, under appreciated tissue. He drags his fingertips up into your scalp and the stretch of it is heavenly. He squeezes the tightly wound muscles at the base of your neck and it sends tingles all the way down your spine as your breath comes out in a woosh.

Your eyes drift closed, drowning in the feel of it. He slowly works his way down the outside on your arms, getting all the sore muscles and you have to roll your face into your blanket to stifle the noise. To his immense credit, he doesn’t say anything to make you feel bad or embarrassed. He just keeps working until you’re a boneless mess in front of him. His hands grip your open ones down by your hips as he pauses.

“I’d offer to massage your legs, but even I know that’s too far.” He says teasingly and it’s probably a good call. But then he mumbles something under his breath, a little too quiet for you to hear properly, but it almost sounds like “I know my own limits.”

You start to push yourself up, but he stops you. “I never said I was done. Your feet must be killing you if mine are any indication.”

“You’re not wrong.” You mumble, laying back down. You shift and roll over onto your back, feeling your spine release the last bit of tension and it cracks as you exhale fully.

He eases your boots off and you flex your toes, trying to prepare for the inevitable tickling as soon as he touches you. He grips your ankle, all firm touches as he sits and pulls your foot onto his knee.

He glances at your face, which holds some kind of look of distress. “Don’t worry, I remember. I’m not looking to get kicked in the mouth again.” He grins, easing your apprehension once more.

“Why are you so good at this?” You sigh, resting your head back.

“At massages? I’ve had lots of practice.” He says casually.

You snort, having no doubt. “I meant all of it, dummy. Being isolated like this, you’re not afraid, you’re not losing your mi-iiind.” You gasp as he digs his first knuckle into the heel of your foot.

“You’re not losing your mind.” He laughs, dragging it up through your arch, adding more pressure so it won’t tickle. “And I’m okay with it because of you.” He adds. “You said that the bugs are big because they don’t have to be fast for survival. So, honestly, we’re probably the most dangerous things here.”

“So, why am I all jittery?” You ask, toes flexing as he presses his thumbs into your arch. Maker, it feels good.

“I don’t know. Maybe you don’t trust me to have your back?” He says, and you know it’s a joke. He would never believe that, so you roll your eyes.

“You are such a jerk. I take it back. You’re the absolute worst.” You huff and he grins.

“You tell me, Y/N. What’s making you so on edge? Why are you so nervous? Don’t sugar coat or rationalize.” He prompts.

You think for a long minute. “The trees creaking? It’s always behind us. Never once has it come from in front of you. It’s always behind me. Sometimes, I felt like something was coming up behind us, not a butterfly or anything. But I’d turn around and there was nothing there, nothing I could see, anyway. And when we would stop for water, or because of my weak ass legs, I would feel eyes on me. Something was watching us, it felt wrong and dangerous. Predatory. Even though we might be the only sentient beings on this planet, I don’t think we’re the most dangerous. It doesn’t feel that way.” You shake your head.

He’s quiet for a long time, working out the arches of your foot. “Alright. We’ll stick together. No going off on your own to take a leak, or get some pretty flowers. If you go, I go. Understand? If you’re that freaked out, or sensing something that strongly, we stay together.” He says, meeting your eyes.

“Deal.” You agree. He finishes with your feet and you push yourself up, gesturing for him to lay down.

“What?” He asks.

“Your turn. Fair is fair, and you know I’m good at it.” You remind him and he chuckles, laying down for you. You straddle the back of his thighs as he lays face down on your sleeping bag and you start with the thickly corded muscles in his back. You work slowly, being just as methodical as he was. By the time you get to the base of his scalp with his thick, luscious dark hair, his breathing has evened out and it’s shallow. If he’s not already asleep, he will be soon. You work out the tension in his hands, spreading the tight muscles with the pads of your thumbs. He makes a soft noise and you smile down at him, brushing his soft hair out of his eyes.

You shift down to his feet, easing his shoes off, working the heels and arches until his soft snores reach you. You chuckle to yourself and lean over him, pressing a kiss to his big shoulder as you take his rifle and go to sit by the door of the cave for the first watch.

He sleeps for a while, the massage clearly helps. You eat your food while you watch the night bugs float by. They’re huge, but thankfully don’t seem interested in you. About halfway through the night, Poe jerks awake with a start, looking around.

“Over here.” You call, pushing yourself up.

“I can’t believe you let me sleep.” He mumbles, wiping his eyes before pulling you into a hug. You rest your head on his chest for a moment, listening to his heart, strong and steady, as he’s always been.

“Well, it would hardly be fair for me to lull you to sleep and then wake you up to take the first watch.” You grin. “Besides, you needed sleep.”

He pulls back and cups your face gently. “You okay?” He asks. That’s what you love about Poe, he’s never been shy. If he wants to touch you, he will. Holding hands, hugs, pushing your arm, guiding you through a crowd. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t particularly care for your boyfriend, or maybe that’s just who he is as a person. But you like the honesty of it. He’s never changed a part of himself to suit anyone else.

“Yeah. I didn’t shoot any bugs by accident.” You shrug and he grins.

“That’s my girl, keeping it together one thread at a time.” He teases and you laugh, dropping your head forward.

“Go get something to eat. I’m gonna go use the little girl’s tree and then get some sleep myself.” You yawn, handing him the gun back.

“Did you forget what I said already?” He rolls his eyes. “If you go, I go.” He nudges you towards the entrance. “Go pee. And then I can get food.”

“It's right there.” You complain.

“What if I’m over there, stuffing my face, and you’re over here with your pants down, and some bat the size of a bantha carries you off into the night? How am I supposed to make it back to the ship?”

“So, you’re admitting you’re useless without me?” You tease and he searches your eyes for a minute before straightening and walking past you, shoulders brushing softly.

“Yes.” He adds and you pump your fists in triumph, turning to follow him. He leads you to the nearest tree, and waits on the side facing the cave while you walk into the dark shadows. Admittedly, you’re much less brave now. It’s so dark, neither of the planet’s two moons are visible behind the cloud cover. The only light is from Poe’s flashlight.

You quickly unbuckle your pants and lean back against the tree, nerves rattled. Your bladder freezes, refusing to relax.

“What’s the hold up?” He asks.

“You’re listening.” You mutter, trying to coax it out by repeatedly tensing and relaxing your muscles.

“Seriously? Now you have stage fright? It’s not like I haven’t heard you go before.” He reminds you and you cover your face with a groan. Shit, he’s right. Just fucking do it.

“Can you just… like… five steps, that’s all I’m asking.” You please and he grumbles but stomps loud enough for you to hear him walk away. It takes another second, but finally, you go. Peeing against a tree is hard work when you have a vagina.

You take care of your business and buckle up, walking back around the tree to find Poe exactly where you left him, having not walked away at all. “Dirty, rotten trickster.” You mutter and he slings his arm around your shoulders.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“I’m not answering you. Good night.” You huff and turn to leave him at the entrance, before you pause and turn back. You quickly kiss his cheek and mumble a quick “eat something,” before walking away completely. The kiss was unprompted, and probably not very professional, but he very easily could have made you feel crazy earlier and didn’t.

You settle down on your sleeping bag in front of the fire, a chill sweeping through you. It’s not cold outside, but it could just be from being still for so long.

After a minute, you can hear him rustling through his bag and then the fire gets warmer in front of you. You smile and drift into unconsciousness.

In your dream, Poe is talking to you. You can’t quite hear what he’s saying, his words are muffled, and every once in a while, the crackling from the fire drowns him out. But his words are soft and gentle. His eyes are looking at your sleeping form, warm and melted chocolate in the light of the flames.

You move, ghost like, towards the opening, drawn to something outside. But the outside isn’t the same. There aren’t any trees as tall as the buildings on Coruscant. There’s white walls, smooth black floors; cold-sterile. A door hisses open to your right and you’re sucked through like a vacuum. This room is all black, red lights dot the walls sporadically and there are two uncomfortable looking contraptions in the middle, tables with metal straps, but upright and facing each other.

The floor drops out from under you and there are two men fighting with lightsabers, one a wicked looking double edged red blade, the other an elegant, cool blue. The one with the red saber, his face is horrifying, red and black streaks down his face and dangerous horns protruding from his bald head. The other man is young, short reddish hair, cream colored robes. They’re fighting for their lives around a massive return tunnel in the center of the floor.

A big gust of wind blows you down the tunnel and you cry out, rolling to a stop in the middle of the trees. You don’t know where you are, all the giant landscape looks the same. Your heart is pounding wildly as you turn around. Something is definitely alive, definitely evil.

As you turn, you spot your best friend, your partner, your commander. He’s fighting someone. You can’t see who, they’re just a dark shape-an outline. “Poe!” You cry out, trying to move through the dense foliage to get to him, to help him!

The shadowy figure pulls a knife out of thin air and plunges it into Poe’s chest, dead center. His warm brown eyes flick over to you as you scream, the earth trembling with your anger. The shadowy figure pulls the knife slowly from his chest and then stabs it up through his jaw, into his soft palate, piercing his brain. You scream, feeling your entire being shake apart at the molecular level, dispersing into the wind as Poe slumps to the ground, unmoving.

Chapter Four

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babyybitchhh · 4 years ago

Text

Shigaraki x Reader 18+

Title: Crybaby

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 12,290

Warnings: I'll be honest and say I'm not entirely sure how to tag some of this so proceed with caution. Infantilization, forced age regression, mental age regression, non consensual regression, ageplay, mentions of baby bottles and pacifiers, coercion, general noncon and dubcon, diddling, vaginal fingering, involuntary urination, wetting, mention of forced third party bathing, diapers, penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, creampie, excessive use of 'Tomu-nii', mention of sex slaves, a brief but explicitly violent death mention towards the start, overall very questionable decisions from both me and Shigaraki

A/N: I will not be taking any questions at this time, thank you.

( @tomurasprincess)

♥♥♥♥

There was a fine line between a gift and a burden.

A new video game, for example, is something people were generally happy to receive and there was no obligation to slave over it at all hours of the day, unless you wanted to. A puppy, on the other hand, came with a certain amount of responsibility that couldn’t be side lined until Tomura decided to deal with it. There was no save button, no coming back to it later. He had to be vigilant to some degree, mindful of the life that was now in his hands, and that wasn’t something he was accustomed to by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn’t stand it. Didn’t even really possess the vernacular needed to describe exactly how much it pissed him off that he was suddenly expected to take care of someone - something else.

It was bullshit.

Standing over your prone form sprawled out on the cluttered floor he thinks, not for the first time, about ending it right here and now. It would be easy, surely. One touch of his hand and you’d be gone. Disintegrated to mere dust and nothing more than a vague, unpleasant memory in the back of his mind. You deserved it by simple virtue of being such a damn inconvenience but, just as every other time, he hesitates.

Not because you don’t even realize the danger you’re in as you innocently kick your legs back and forth in the air, all your wide eyed, dopey attention locked on the tv screen. Tomura is not so soft as to consider a sneak attack you don’t even see coming an insult to his pride. He would’ve been showing you mercy, actually, because if he didn’t fear upsetting All for One so much he’d have preferred to wrap his hands around your scrawny little neck instead. Give you a good throttle or two. Squeeze until his knuckles were a stark white against your purpling blue skin. He could almost envision what you would look like, all bloated and full of blood from burst capillaries and reddened eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

His cock stirs in his pants and his hatred for you grows with it. He couldn’t stand you or what you represented, a sudden addition to his life that he never asked for but couldn’t get rid of, and the fact he was getting stiff from his morbid fantasies was certainly your fault too. Everything was your fault. Right down to the most minor of inconveniences, you were to blame - even if it happened before you were dropped into his lap with all the to-do of a posh, overly indulgent birthday present. It was you. You, you, you, you you you youyouyouyouyou -

“Tomu-nii?”

With a jolt, he snaps out of it. The haze lifts and his blown out eyes focus in on your tubby little face, now turned over your shoulder to glance back at him. Tomura isn’t sure when you realized he was looming over you like some horrible, sickly wraith and he knows even less how it is that you show no fear towards him. Were you really so stupid that you couldn’t sense his desire to not only kill you but make you suffer? So blind that you didn’t see the way his bony hands fisted at his sides with a purpose and not in idle reflex?

No. It wasn’t that you were as unintelligent as a brain dead sheep happily trotting off to slaughter. Rather, it’s because that was what All for One had designed you to be.

Tomura wouldn’t claim to understand how, exactly, his mentor had gotten these results but he knows enough to recognize the signs. You’d been stripped of everything in a way that far exceeded mere surface level nudity. All for One had gone even deeper than that, past flesh and bone and right into the heart of what made you you. The brain.

He had no doubt that a quirk had been used, the specifics of which he couldn’t even begin to fathom, but the tinkering and rewiring had done its job exceedingly well, in fact. While your body was that of a young adult woman, early to mid 20’s if he had to wager a guess, your mind was something like that of a toddlers. You could speak just fine but the enunciation was sloppy, your words childish and limited to small, easily communicable sentences. You picked up on things surprisingly fast, perhaps even a little too well if the way he’d heard you let out a soft, half hearted ‘fuck’ earlier was anything to go by. But you slipped up just as easily and he was getting real tired of making sure you went and sat on the toilet instead of pissing all over his (no doubt already smelly) carpet. Living in his own mess was one thing. Living in someone else’s was another matter entirely.

Nothing about this was in error, though. You were exactly what All for One intended for you to be - little more than an animal for him to look after but with arguably higher stakes involved - and he’d had enough. It’d only been a single day, a full 24 hours since you were dropped into his room, and he was already at the end of his patience.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like that stupid cartoon I put on for you?”

You actually had the audacity to pout at him, jutting your lower lip out and puffing your cheeks as if that was supposed to make him feel anything other than an even stronger urge to take you out of this world. “S’not that. Mm’ just bored. You’re no fun.”

Tomura very nearly lunges at you with outstretched hands, All for One be damned, but your next words stop him in his tracks.

“I thought maybe you were coming to play with me.”

Play with you? He would’ve laughed if only he could find even a sliver of real humor in this situation. This was a joke, if not because of the absurdity of it all then at least because he wanted to play with you alright. He wanted to play a game that started with you screaming in shrill terror and ended with a chilly body laid out on his bedroom floor. That sounded like more fun than a barrel of kittens.

He stills himself, though, and snobbishly peers at you down the length of his nose. “I don’t play games with brats. Sorry.”

That only makes you pout even more. “Meanie.”

“Watch your fucking cartoon,” Tomura grits out through gnashing, angry teeth, unreasonably irritated by your persistent refusal to cooperate. “Before I make you.”

He isn’t even really sure if that threat makes any sense at this point, so thrown off by your mere presence in what should’ve been his space that he can barely make heads or tails of his own thoughts anymore. But the dramatic way you squawk in displeasure and throw yourself out flat on the floor placates him somewhat. You were easy to rile up, and he would have been a boldfaced liar if he’d said he didn’t get a kick out of that. Tomura had never felt quite so cruel, so much like an adolescent bully looking to make his problems someone else’s as when he was working you up into a proper fit.

It was easily the most enjoyable aspect of this arrangement so far, and he watches with nothing short of smug satisfaction as you pound your hands on the floor in pent up frustration. It was laughably easy to picture what they’d look like, well groomed after a manicure and with a fresh coat of polish on the nails. You looked like you’d probably been the sort of woman who would go with reds. Fierce and bold, as much a statement as your pretty face, which was currently scrunched up and pressed tight against the carpet in front of his tv. Those same hands were plain and unadorned now, squeezed into tight little fists that were about as harmless as they could get. Tomura probably would’ve considered a turtle more of a pressing threat than you right now.

“Crybaby.” He spits the word out like it’s poison. “Does that make you feel better? Huh? Throwing a tantrum just because you’re not getting your way?”

“Mm’ not a crybaby!” You scream into the carpet. The contrast between your plushy figure and your behavior is disturbing on some very real, intrinsic level and that only seems to add fuel to his fire.

“Hah! That’s funny. You certainly look like one, you know that? What would you even think of yourself if you were in your right mind, I wonder.”

“Mm’ not!” Your incessant screeching rises in pitch and Tomura is almost positive you aren’t even really hearing him anymore, but he decides he doesn’t care.

“Embarrassing. Maybe I should have Kurogiri bring me a bottle since you want to act like a baby so much. Or would you like a pacifier instead? Hmm? Would that make you feel better, princess?”

“Nooooo!”

Your feet start kicking the air again, violently rather than in placid distraction, and the motion draws Tomura’s gaze to the seat of your onesie. Pink and humiliatingly infantile for a grown woman to be wearing, he’d looked at it with nothing short of contempt up until now. But the (no doubt exhausting) flex of your legs bunches the loose cotton, making it gather around your upturned ass and in turn emphasizes the convenient button flap across the back. Now that he’s actually looking at it, he’s almost positive it was wide enough to expose your entire rear to the world with little more than a quick snap of his fingers. Maybe even wide enough to expose other things too …

Tomura jolts with all the force of a sudden electric shock when you cry out his name or, rather, the ridiculous moniker you’d given him. He’d like to know who’d planted that particular seed in your head - if it was All for One’s idea of a twisted joke or if Kurogiri had really thought being called niichan by a woman who may or may not actually be older than him would make Tomura feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It doesn’t exactly matter now, though, because the wet quality of your voice makes his cock spring up in his pants. He’s mildly horrified with himself, far more comfortable with his earlier fantasies of killing you, but there’s no helping it anymore. Not when you say his name like that. Not when the tears he’d initially thought were crocodilian at best were so thick and heavy in your throat that the syllables come out garbled and almost incomprehensible.

He’s not sure what he intends to do, but he shuffles closer.

You’ve started to tire out now and the kicking slows before stopping all together. He watches your ankles cross over one another in the air, as if you were trying to self soothe on some level by physically keeping yourself together, but it doesn’t seem to do much in the way of good. Your shoulders were still trembling with the lingering traces of your fit, and he can hear you mewling into the abrasive carpet like a wounded animal. It was clear that you were hurting because of him - and not just as a result of his teasing. After the complete and utter deconstruction of your mind, you were probably scared without even really knowing why. Confused, but too lost in the quirk induced stupor that had left you in this sorry state to seek out answers.

He hadn’t bothered to test this theory yet, but Tomura would have been willing to bet good money that All for One left you with very little inside that thick skull of yours. It just made sense, after all. For what good was a doll with memories of her past life? What would he have possibly gotten out of playing house with someone who fought him every step of the way, either out of embarrassment or repulsion towards him as a person?

No. You were a blank slate in the strictest sense. His to mold however he deemed fit and with no recollection of who you were, who you’d been or even who you’d wanted to be, he was free to do whatever he damn well pleased.

There was still raging contempt for you burning within his chest, certainly. You were an annoying, unnecessary burden on him and there was no getting around the fact that he still wanted you gone. But the spark igniting his gut is even stronger and, for better or worse, it momentarily overrides his better judgement.

So he sinks down onto his knees, directly behind you, and reaches out to tentatively palm the swell of your ass. Pinky held away, so as not to disintegrate you, which surprises him somewhat given how vivid his fantasies of killing you had been. He doesn’t get to linger on that for very long though, because you grow still at his touch and your pathetic sniveling quiets to a soft, almost hopeful sniffle. Tomura bites back a crude snort, just barely managing to catch himself before he backpedals and hisses another insult at you. He could probably take what he wanted with any given method, he didn’t have to be nice about it, but somehow the alternative just felt wrong. Physically you were an adult, but with the mental state of a child it felt a bit like taking advantage of an innocent and he wasn’t a complete monster.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, the word foreign on his tongue. “I shouldn’t have been so mean. Will you forgive me?”

You squirm and push your face further into the carpet. “Mhm.”

He doesn’t smile. But he does take that as an incentive to push forward, and he starts caressing your backside with slow, cautious circles. “Do you really want me to play with you that bad?”

“Mhm.”

Hesitating, Tomura considers his next words very carefully. “Fine. I’ll play with you. But I get to choose the game.”

You don’t immediately respond and he starts to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Overestimated his ability to be diplomatic and conscientious - which wouldn’t exactly have come as a surprise. But then you shift on the floor, tension draining from your body as you turn your head so you aren’t suffocating in the carpet anymore. “Okay.”

His brows lift in surprise only to then knit together. It was that easy? He’s not so sure he trusts it but, dropping his gaze back down to your ass, he gives the doughy soft flesh an experimental squeeze. Your only response is a soft, faltering sigh that seems to help you relax more. This, too, seems a little too good to be true but he keeps going anyway.

When a few minutes of kneading your defenseless backside does nothing to upset you, Tomura starts to get bolder. He slowly brings his opposite hand forward and latches onto the other cheek with four fingers, massaging both sides in tandem. He’d had the unfortunate luck of seeing your bare ass late the previous evening, after you’d emptied your bladder all over the blanket he’d tossed you to sleep on which had resulted in an aggressively administered bath for you and a frustrated headache for him. He hadn’t paid too much attention at the time, far too angry to be horny, but he knew enough to realize that you were unexpectedly voluptuous under that onesie.

The garment itself was so oversized it hid even the smallest hint of the womanly figure underneath. He probably would’ve forgotten all about it, pushed to the back of his mind in favor of more pressing matters (like getting rid of you) but now that he’s got his hands on your butt it’s all he can think about. The way your full tits jiggled when he’d non too gently manhandled you into the tub. The frustratingly cute lower belly pouch that bulged when you sat down, crying, on the porcelain surface. The way your thighs molded to whatever position he’d yanked them in so he could hose you off like a filthy stray. He’d actively avoided looking at what was between your legs, in fear of what he’d see as much as stubborn refusal, but looking back on it now he isn’t sure how he hadn’t given in to temptation.

Now, however, he was suddenly more interested than ever in finding out what your pussy looked like and, hooking his long index fingers into the flap, he starts to unlatch it one button at a time.

You make no move to stop him. Don’t even protest or question what he’s doing. It’s almost as if just having his attention on you is enough, and Tomura’s mouth pulls back in a sneer at the mere thought. You were so damn stupid for trusting him like this, completely oblivious or uncaring about what his intentions were. He could be as violent with you as he wanted. He could erase you from this existence with the briefest touch. But you just lay there, your shoulders slowly rising and falling with each even breath you draw, and he can’t decide if that feeling clawing at the back of his throat is hatred or guilt.

But there’s no real reason to stop now, so he carefully peels back the flap of fabric once he’s got it completely unfastened. Bare skin greets him, a perfectly exposed strip of swelling flesh that seems all the more enticing with pink cotton framing it so nicely. He pauses long enough to lick his dry, cracked lips. The weight of his stiff cock strains against the inside of his zipper, twitching eagerly when he reaches out to hesitantly touch your back side again.

The sensation of a real, living person under his fingertips makes his breath come a little faster. Still, you don’t move though and he picks up right where he left off, roughly groping your ass cheeks with barely contained excitement until he gets so vigorous that you whimper.

“Shh. I’ll try not to be so rough.” Tomura shushes you, throaty and barely more than a murmur.

You settle back into place, thankfully, and he takes that chance to spread your cheeks open. He gets a brief glimpse of the puckered hole hidden inside, white hot static racing straight to his groin, and he lets out a rumbling groan. His fingers squeeze into flesh again and he pulls, baring you entirely to his voracious eyes. The tight muscle twitches, winking at him, and his attention drops to the smallest satiny peak of your slit. He can just barely see it, mostly hidden behind the pooling fabric bunched under the swell of your ass, but it’s more than enough to make him feel dizzy.

“Shit,” he sounds winded even to his own ears. “You’ve got such a nice body.”

To his surprise, you actually perk up at that. “Really?”

Tomura almost snaps at you on impulse, so irritated by the sound of your voice that he nearly forgets what he’s trying to do. Quelling himself, though, he tugs at the bottom half of your onesie until he can see the plushy soft lips of your pussy. You look so inviting, so warm and real he can hardly even stand it.

“Really.” He croaks. “How old are you again?”

You seem to think about that. “Mm, I dunno’!”

He frowns. Contemplates that for a long beat. But the coarse hair curling around your slit seems answer enough, for him at least. You weren’t actually a child. You just sounded like one, acted like one, dressed like one. That wasn’t what was getting him so painfully hard though. It was the fact you were a woman, physically, and he’d never gotten to see one up close and personal like this before. Why hadn’t All for One just given him a proper sex slave instead of one that threw tantrums and cried at the drop of a dime? Was this really what his mentor had intended for him to do with you?

“Tomu-nii?”

Drawing a sharp breath, he brings his attention up to bark at you to be quiet but the words catch when he finds you looking at him over your shoulder. He can feel his cheeks starting to warm, suddenly embarrassed.

“What?”

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

He flounders for a moment. Then, awkwardly clearing his throat, he decides to fall back on his original excuse. “This is the game I mentioned earlier. You wanted to play, right?”

You nod your head, but you don’t look entirely certain about that. “I do but … aren’t games s’posed to be fun? This is boring!”

His mouth presses into a thin line. It hadn’t occurred to him that you might not be content to just idly sit by while he molested your slutty little body, but if it was fun you wanted then he could certainly give you that. “This was just the warm up. Roll over and I’ll show you how to play.”

The way your eyes light up almost makes him regret this decision. It’s too late though, you’re already twisting over on to your back with your elbows braced on the carpet so you can stare up at him. Stupid and expectant.

He clicks his tongue.

Reaching out to grab your wide set hips with only eight of his fingers, he inelegantly drags you closer so that you were nicely slotted between his knees. Your legs curl up as you regard him with nothing short of intense curiosity, lips parting in a silent ‘o’ that very nearly sends him over the edge. You were too pretty for your own good. Much too beautiful to be wearing a pink onesie and acting like a baby. This was such a waste, and he almost feels bad for what All for One did to you.

But he shrugs it off, forcefully, and his delicately poised hands descend on your zipper. Zrrrrrt, straight down the length of your body. It stops directly above your crotch and he reaches up to reverently push the cotton out to the sides and expose the rest of you.

Your tits were even better than he’d initially thought. They were full and heavy, dotted with the most perfect little buds for nipples. Soft and smooth. Tomura’s mouth waters in anticipation and he doesn’t realize how roughly he’s jerking your arms out of the sleeves until you wail dramatically that it hurts.

He’d like to tell you what really hurts is his cock, unbearably hard and trapped inside his pants, but he refrains. Instead, he huffs out an insincere apology and keeps on yanking. He can’t get you undressed fast enough, mesmerized by the way your breasts jiggle and bounce every time he pulls on you. There’s something inherently wrong about this, he knows. It’s so damn obvious you’re not right in the head, that you aren’t of sound enough mind to even understand what he’s doing to you, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you were so willing and pliant under his shaking hands.

Finally managing to wrest the blasted onesie off your kicking feet, Tomura tosses it off to the side and he eagerly sets his sights on your naked body. You should have looked seductive and coy, spread out in front of him with a devious smile curling artfully painted lips as you invite him to have his way with you. Instead, you fitfully squirm, neither seductive nor shy. It’s clear that you have no sense of shame, your artificially infantile brain completely void of the concept and even less aware of how inappropriate any of this was. You just keep looking at him, waiting for the explanation he’d promised to give you.

Oh. That’s right. The game he kept talking about. Perhaps he could still salvage this after all.

“The rules are simple,” he says slowly, scrambling to put together a decent excuse to keep going. “I’ll touch you for a little bit and if I can make you feel good then I win. After that, it’ll be your turn. If you make me feel good, you’ll win. Understand?”

Your expression pinches in confusion. “So we both win?”

“Only if we make each other feel good. What’s wrong? You don’t want to play with me anymore?”

Much to his relief, you quickly bob your head. “I do! Please play with me, Tomu-nii!”

The way his cock jolts at that makes his entire body ache. It’s much too late to turn back now, he was well past the point of salvation, and he haltingly drags his attention down to your chest. Your petite nipples had stiffened in the cool air but it’s as if you don’t even notice. Wasn’t that something a grown woman would be conscious of? He thinks so, or at least he’s pretty sure it is. Apparently it isn’t the sort of thing a dumb baby brain even registers, though, and he reaches out to curiously flick at one.

You gasp, eyes widening slightly. Misplaced hope sears his veins and he watches you intently, holding his breath, but you don’t seem to understand what it is you’re feeling. Your brows furrow as you glance down at yourself and bring a hand up to cover your nipple.

“Oww …”

That certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Or at least it wasn’t the sort of reaction Pornhub had taught him to expect, but it was still something.

“Baby.” He grumbles, reaching for the opposite tit.

“Mm’not!”

“Are too. Didn’t that feel good?”

“No!”

“Then you’re winning, aren’t you?”

Confusion marches across your face for a moment before understanding dawns. You look quite pleased now as you track the movement of his hand as he carefully pinches your puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently rolling it between the pads. He doesn’t get an immediate reaction out of you but the longer he does it the more your lips start to purse. It’s as if you were holding back, determined not to show him that you might be enjoying it and risk losing the game, but it’s enough to embolden him.

His ministrations pick up and he gives your delicate little teat a mild twist. There’s no malice or cruelty behind the action. He just wants to see what you’ll do. And you don’t disappoint, the way you jump and your mouth flies open as if to squawk making his stomach clench with something perverse. You catch yourself at the last second though, teeth clacking together as your gaze flits up at him to see if he’s looking.

He is, of course, and you forcibly swallow the sound you’d almost let out. Tomura is a bit disappointed, sure. He’d wanted to hear how pretty you’d moan for him but there were still plenty of other chances for him to coerce at least one out of you.

Hunching over your prone body, he brings his other hand up to latch onto the opposite nipple, the one he’d previously flicked. You wince at the contact but make no move to stop him, biting down on your lower lip to keep quiet as you watch him play with your fat tits in petulant silence. It was ass backwards in so many ways. He’d thought, despite everything, his first time with a girl would be somewhat normal. Maybe not picture perfect or all that good when everything was said and done, but at least relatively mundane. This was the farthest thing from that though. He couldn’t conceive of a more wildly abnormal scenario even if he’d tried, nor did he recall ever seeing any porn with this hyper specific set up. But there was still some sick, twisted part of him that was deriving pleasure from this decidedly unorthodox encounter with the opposite sex, and that feeling only grows exponentially the more he keeps going.

Kneading, pinching, squeezing, tugging. He doesn’t let up until your nipples are flushed dark and straining hard, the glistening hint of tears at the corners of your eyes telling him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was getting somewhere. The urge to call you a crybaby swells in his chest again but he doesn’t want to risk another tantrum. He wasn’t so sure his cock could handle it, particularly not when he’d positioned himself over you in such a way that one solid kick would put him out of commission for the foreseeable future. No, this was a delicate situation that required the utmost care on his part and, gathering his nerves, he swoops down to cover one of the stiff buds with his mouth.

The heated gasp that bursts out of you in a great woosh has him groaning into the meaty swell of your tit. You shudder underneath him, involuntarily twitching as he traces your areola with the tip of his tongue and laves it in warm, wet attention. He can tell that you’re not sure what to do so he waits with bated breath, reveling in the fleshy nub pinched between his lips. There was no reason for him not to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment he could get out of this while he could, after all - but then your hands find his hair, threading into wavy locks, and he throbs for you.

“Tomu-nii …”

He practically sinks into you, damn near suffocating himself in the plushy swell of your breast. His mouth opens wide and sucks more of you past his lips, suckling enthusiastically just like the infant you were programmed to be. This particular role reversal doesn’t even seem to register in your mind though and he seethes when you tug at his hair, trying to pull him off.

“St-aaahp …. I don’t like it!”

Tomura comes up off you with a wet gasp. “Bullshit.” He practically growls, narrowing his eyes at your dopey, flustered expression.

“It’s true! I don’t!”

“Oh? Should we check then?”

Your face scrunches and you draw a breath to question him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Going back up on his knees, he plants one hand against the meat of your inner thigh and shoves it wide. His other darts between your legs before you can react, spindly digits finding your bare cunt and prodding at your folds with rough fingertips. You jolt at the contact but it’s too late. He barely has to touch you to feel the slick oozing out of you and he lets loose a harsh bark of laughter.

“My ass. You’re fucking soaked. You shouldn’t lie, you know.”

“I didn’t!” You gasp, clearly offended by the insinuation. “You’re just a fucking meanie!”

That gives him pause.

Glancing up at your face, Tomura regards you carefully as he tries to figure out his next move. On one hand it was his own fault for saying that word around you so much and it’s not like it was any of his business what you did or didn’t say, but on the other … there was something uncomfortable about hearing that come out of your mouth with such a childish inflection. It lacked any and all bite, not even a hint of impotent aggression to be found. You were just parroting him, that’s all, but for whatever reason he didn’t really appreciate it.

“Don’t say that.” He huffs, turning his attention back to your pussy.

Tomura had wanted to leave it at that, but of course you have to fight him every step of the way.

“Why not?” You ask rather flippantly.

“Because i said so. If you want to get smart, be my guest. I know how to handle bratty little girls like you.”

He’s a bit surprised when that actually shuts you up. Apparently, he was starting to get the hang of this but he still has to sneak a quick peek at you just to make sure. The fact you actually look contemplative, as if you were turning that over in your empty head, almost makes him laugh.

“Do you still want to play?” God, he sorely hoped you did.

You hesitate though, unwilling to give your acquiescence just like that. “When is it my turn?” You ask warily.

“Soon. I’ve got one more chance to make you feel good and then you can try.”

“Mmm … okay. But I’m not gonna’ lose!”

He’s almost certain you would have already lost if you weren’t such a petulant little thing, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, he once again turns his attention to the spot between your legs. Your puffy slit was noticeably wet, the faint sheen of fluid glistening slightly in the overhead light, and he takes a moment to gently part the curls there. Just as he’d thought. Damp to the touch and only getting wetter. He really was going to have to talk to you about lying especially since, in this particular context, you were cheating. This was a far cry from his video games but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

Swallowing his reprimand for the time being, though, Tomura carefully presses two fingers into the doughy softness of your labia and spreads them apart. He can see now that you were practically drenched in slick arousal, thin threads of discharge stretching across your petal soft folds before snapping. He gulps down his nerves. You really did have the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen and the fact it was all his for the taking very nearly had him creaming in his pants right then and there. It was almost obscene how bad he wanted to fuck your tampered brains out but he didn’t want to scare you into noncompliance. He wasn’t going to fight for this if he didn’t have to.

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings his other hand close and prods at where he thinks your clit should be. He’d certainly seen them in enough triple X videos to have some idea of where to look, but when all you do is let out a soft sigh he knows he’s mistaken.

His teeth gnash in high strung irritation as he walks his finger lower and then higher, feeling a bit like a blind fool searching for buried treasure. There were so many fleshy ridges and folds that he couldn’t pinpoint the right spot from memory alone, so he has to take his time feeling around instead. He thinks he’s found it for a split second when you shift underneath him, but then he realizes you were simply getting fussy - no doubt bored with all his incessant pawing - and that only angers him further. It shouldn’t have been this damn hard to find!

Impatient now, Tomura roughly swipes his finger up the length of your slit and surprise washes over him when you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Your head comes up off the rug and you stare at him, wide eyed, but it was much too late. He’d finally gotten the reaction out of you that he’d been hoping for, and he leans into it with nothing short of devilish delight.

Knowing precisely where to look helps a great deal and it immediately occurs to him that the reason he’d struggled so much is because your clit was still hidden behind its protective hood. But he’s got the advantage now, and he ever so carefully pinches at satiny soft skin until he can ease it back and expose the sensitive little bud nestled inside. You whimper slightly as he does it, squirming awkwardly on your back as if you could instinctively sense that you might be in a bit of trouble now. It was kind of cute, if he was being totally honest.

“I don’t think I like this game …”

“You will. Trust me.”

Clearly not believing him, you start to open your mouth to complain but he stops you cold with a quick flick of his finger. Your engorged clit jostles against the indelicate contact and you blurt out such a startled sound that he actually glances up to make sure you’re okay. Unsurprisingly, you look a little more flustered now and the panic edging your expression is almost enough to make him reconsider this.

Almost, but not quite.

“What’s the matter?” He goads, dropping his gaze back down to your pussy again. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I … I don’t …”

“Really? I’m not sure I believe that.”

He does it again, gentler this time. Just a brief tap against the meaty little nub, but it’s enough to make you twitch and try to close your legs from him. Tomura won’t let you back out so easily though and he shifts even closer so he can wedge himself between your thighs to keep them spread. You issue a frustrated, huffy sound that he could only describe as babyish as you try to push up on your elbows, no doubt intending to scuttle away from him. He had to give you credit for being so hard headed even in this infantile state but he was far too invested to quit now.

Letting up his hold on your labia, Tomura directs his fingers lower and wedges three of them into your slit. You freeze, momentarily stunned, and he takes that split second opportunity to feel around for your entrance. It’s not hard to find. Much easier than your clit, at any rate, and he wastes no time wriggling a long digit up inside your body. The penetration is smooth, your guts such a slippery mess that it almost startles him.

You really were a liar.

He suddenly realizes he’s panting. At the same time, he realizes that you don’t appear to be breathing at all. Your expression is about as dumbfounded as it could be, and he dully watches the way you sway in your half upright position. Shellshocked would probably be an appropriate descriptor, and he wets his lips in anticipation.

“Well? Do you like it?”

Your legs flex around his arms and you shake your head. “Nuh … no …”

“If you don’t stop lying to me,” he grumbles. “I’m going to get mad.”

You stiffen, clearly drawing yourself up to challenge that statement just like he’d known you would. It was embarrassing how predictable you could be.

He’s had just about enough of this back and forth though, and he roughly curls his finger upward in search of the spot that would finally shut you up for good. But his efforts only make you more fussy and his patience quickly unravels when you try to twist away from him, wailing in displeasure. He hated that sound and, if you weren’t careful, he’d go right back to hating you too

Grunting, Tomura abandons your clit in favor of latching his hand onto the swell of your thigh and he digs his blunt nails in to keep you still. You actually have the audacity to kick out at him but he puts a stop to that quickly enough by shoving a second finger into your sticky cunt. Just like the first time, it makes you hesitate and he watches your warbling mouth drop open in what he thinks might be pleasure. It’s frustratingly hard to tell with you but, having no other choice, he decides to take it at face value.

Your pussy clicks loudly when he starts pumping into you straight down to the knuckle, the wet squelch almost deafening in his ears. It’s unreasonably hot though, his mind running a mile a minute as he tries to commit every little detail to memory. The way your face screws up with a stuttering gasp, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and try to brace against the pressure of his digits driving into you again and again. The way you moan, even when you try not to, is particularly enticing, especially since it’s just as pretty as he’d hoped it would be. The way your legs shake and you threaten to double over, the way he can see you clutching the carpet in a death grip, the way you just seem to get even wetter for him. There was too much to take in all at once but it was also far too erotic to look away from. He really was going to cream his pants at this rate.

Somehow, your honest reaction appears to make up for all the trouble you’d given him up until now and Tomura can feel the wet spot bleeding through his boxer briefs start to grow. He was positive he’d never been harder in all his life. Animalistic and practically slobbering like a rabid dog, he hunches further over your quaking body and pistons into your cunt so vigorously his arm starts to ache. You were wailing for him to stop, crying out for Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, but he doesn’t even slow down. He can’t.

Your cunt just keeps sucking him in deeper on every plunge, gummy walls pulsating around his no doubt pruning fingers so enthusiastically that he’s sure you’re going to cum. He can practically taste it. Tomura wasn't going to stop until you did and, realizing he doesn’t have to hold onto you any longer, he reaches out to roughly shove you down on your back again.

“Are you going to cream for me, princess? Huh?” He grits out through savagely bared teeth. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“No! Please, Tomu-nii … it hurts!”

Even in the heat of the moment he can’t stop himself from clicking his tongue in irritation. “No it doesn’t, you big baby. You love this. I know you do. I can see it written all over your stupid, pretty face. Go on. Tell me exactly how good you feel. Do it!”

Wailing, you peer up at him through heavy lashes with a look so imploring it very nearly gives him pause. “I - I can’t! I’m … Tomu-nii, I’m gonna’ … I’m gonna’ pee!”

“No you aren’t. That just means your clo - -“

Tomura cuts himself off when you do exactly that. He’s almost too stunned to react and all he can do is watch as the steady stream of urine bursts out of you before dribbling down his wrist to soak into the carpet underneath. It’s only now, when you’re pissing all over yourself as well as him, that he finally has the decency to slow his pumping to a staggered halt. For a fleeting moment he actually considers the notion of keeping at it. There wasn’t much else you could do to ruin this for him, after all, but one look at your expression immediately quashes that idea.

He’d be lucky if all he could manage was to stop you from dissolving into ugly, heaving sobs, let alone worry about getting himself off. Dammit. You really were nothing but a pain in his ass.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He deadpans, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt now that he was thoroughly coated in warm, smelly piss. “To be honest I was kind of tired of that rug anyway. And these clothes, too.”

You hiccup so sadly that what little bit of anger had sparked inside him immediately dies out. He couldn’t even be mad at you for this no matter how much he may have wanted to blame you for everything. You’d tried to warn him.

“T- Tomu-nii … mm’sorry …”

Tomura sighs through his nose, hard enough to make the split end tips of his hair shift. “Don't be. That was my fault. Just - let me find something to clean us up with.”

“Do I have to take another bath?” You ask so meekly he almost misses it.

Pausing halfway through the motion of rising to his feet, he glances down at you again. It occurs to him quickly enough that it wasn’t the accident you were so upset about but, rather, the looming possibility of another aggressively meted out trip to the bathroom. Interesting. He’d almost think he was mistaken, it had only happened once, after all, but the way your lower lip wobbles tells him everything he needs to know. Apparently you were more scared of him than you’d let on.

“No, not right now. I think I can get you clean enough with a wet rag or something. You’ll have to take one later but,” Tomura scoffs, hating that he was actually trying to be nice after you’d peed all over him. “I’ll try not to be so rough next time. You just made me mad last night, that’s all.”

You nod slowly, looking like you don’t quite believe that, but still too naively trusting to press the matter. “Okay.”

Nodding once, Tomura climbs to his feet. The inner seam of his pants from the knee down is absolutely soaked and he makes it only three steps before deciding he didn’t like them all that much to begin with. Dropping his hand to the rough denim, he brushes all five fingers across the thigh and they dissolve into nothing without a second thought to the matter. He can faintly hear you ooohing behind him but there were much more important things to worry about than how easily impressed you were.

His half flagged cock throbs hopefully inside his boxer briefs and he reaches down to delicately adjust himself. God, he’d be aching for the next week thanks to your uncontrollable bladder.

An idea pops into his head with that thought. You weren’t the only thing he’d been saddled with yesterday, and he turns to regard the thick gym bag he’d previously thrown against the far wall in anger. It’s where he’d gotten your pink onesie after you’d similarly soiled the first pair of clothes you’d been wearing. He hadn’t bothered to look through all of its contents just yet, but he felt relatively confident he’d find what he wanted in there.

Circling back around, Tomura squats in front of the bag and yanks it open. He can feel your eyes watching him from your spot on the floor but he pays it no mind. Digging inside, he pulls out a few more articles of clothing, far too cutesy for his tastes, and then a book on child care that he knows for certain was put there in jest. Over his shoulder it gets chucked, and he digs deeper. Down at the very bottom he finds exactly what he’d been looking for.

But in addition to the baby wipes there are two other items that catch his attention. He outright balks at the very notion - however, realistically speaking, it could very well be the answer to his problems. At least the most pressing one, anyway.

The idea that All for One knew he’d likely run into this issue but still decided to dump you on him anyway bothers Tomura a great deal and he frowns even as he looks over the packaging. Diapers and pull ups. What was the difference? He’s not so sure there is one, and he feels almost certain that they serve the same purpose. But further inspection proves him wrong. One was for a total lack of control and the other was for the potty training stage, so not as thick or absorbent. That’s what the packing said but, at any rate, they definitely weren't the plain adult brands he was looking at here.

These were bright and colorful, and he can’t help but cringe at the thought of putting you in either of them. But he was still left with a very real concern that he simply couldn’t overlook. The fact he even had to make this decision at all was ridiculous but he couldn’t very well have you pissing on every available surface in his room. And given your track record of absolutely drenching whatever you happened to be sitting on at the time …

Hesitantly, Tomura takes out the diapers and shuffles towards his unkempt bed. The print on the back wasn't particularly clear about what to do with them. He’d probably have to look up a tutorial later, when he wasn’t feeling quite so downtrodden and his balls weren’t aching, though that would certainly put him on a few watch lists. Not that it really mattered.

He sighs and tosses the package on top of his sheets before tearing into the baby wipes. Taking his time, he methodically scrubs his wrist and his legs clean while he contemplates his next move. It wasn’t going to be pretty. It certainly wasn’t going to be sexy. It was still probably the lesser of two evils, though. Far be it that he wanted to go this route but did he really even have any other choice at this point?

“Tomu-nii …”

Your soft whining draws him back to reality and, abruptly realizing you’ve been sitting in your own piss this entire time, he turns to look back at you. For a split second, he seriously considers just killing you right then and there. It would save him a lot of trouble and you wouldn’t even realize what was coming. You were so stupid you’d probably think he was going in for a hug or something asinine like that. He’d be doing you a favor, really, because as far as he was concerned, death was certainly preferable to wearing diapers but … the urge fizzles out almost as quickly as it had appeared. He wasn’t going to let you slip out of his hold until after he’d gotten to bury himself in that tight, pretty little pussy of yours.

Decision made, Tomura makes his way over to the carpet again. You look cold, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, and he bends down to grab the meat of your upper arms so he can drag you up to your feet. “Come on. I think I’ve got a solution.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Salution?”

“Close enough.”

Steering you over to the bed, he makes you bend over the mattress so he can take a baby wipe to the backs of your thighs and ass. Luckily, depending on how you looked at it, the urine had run down rather than going every which direction so it was pretty easy to clean up. The way you tremble and shift your weight back and forth makes it a bit more difficult than it needed to be but he manages, somehow.

Tomura straightens after a long moment, finally deeming the back of you good to go. He’s not so sure he can get through this next part when you were fidgeting so much, though, and he briefly considers the clothes in the gym bag. The thought of putting you in another girly, saccharine sweet garment repulses him almost as much as the thought of putting you in a diaper. But he was going to have to pick and choose his battles here and, reaching back, he delicately tugs off his t-shirt.

“Turn around.”

You slowly comply, teeth chattering the whole time.

“Arms up.”

At this, you hesitate. But at his expectantly bland look, you do as you're told and raise your arms up in the air. The lift of your heavy tits almost successfully distracts him and it is with a great deal of self control on his part that he pulls his shirt down over your head, yanking it a little too forcefully into place.

“There.” He practically hisses, watching you clumsily work your arms through the sleeves. “Is that better?”

You think about that for a moment, eyes scanning across the front of his shirt, and he briefly wonders if you’re going to say something derisive about the worn video game logo stretched across your chest. But then you smile, nodding your head a little too enthusiastically.

“Mm! It smells like Tomu-nii!”

He really couldn’t stand you.

“Good. In return, I’ll need you to cooperate with me here. I’ve never done this before, you know?”

You blink at him quizzically. “Done what?”

Tomura rolls his eyes, feeling grumpier by the second. He couldn’t wait to get this over with and have you situated so he could run off to the bathroom for what probably wouldn’t even amount to five minutes of desperate jerking. “Never mind. Just do what I tell you, okay?”

You nod your head again, but he has some very real doubts about that. Even when you were pretending to go along with whatever it was he wanted you still found some way to fuck everything up for him. If this scheme somehow backfired because your brain was so scrambled you couldn’t even follow simple directions, he was not going to be happy.

Mentally bracing himself for the worst possible outcome, he reaches for the diapers. He rips the bag open almost violently and pulls one out, but it feels even more wrong in his hands than he’d thought it would. A strange sense of scandalized affront warms his chest, making him reconsider this choice for the upteenth time. If Tomura was being completely honest, he felt embarrassed for you but a quick glance in your direction proves that you don’t share quite the same sentiment. You really couldn’t have cared less, huh?

Right. Baby brain.

He grumbles under his breath as he non too gently snaps the diaper open with a loud crinkle of plastic and lays it out close to the edge of his bed. Motioning you closer, Tomura awkwardly helps you get seated on the damn thing and then instructs you to lay down. You genuinely don’t seem to have a problem with this as you recline back, just placidly peering up at him with your little fists balled in the hem of his shirt, but now that he’s gotten this far he’s not sure how to proceed.

At a loss, he takes another baby wipe out of the package and inserts himself between your bent legs. “I’m going to clean you some more, okay?” He's not sure why he’s telling you that, especially when all you do is nod your dopey head in understanding. Just buying time. That’s all he was doing.

But it gives him a chance to think and for that he’s grateful. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to figure out what All for One’s intention with all this had been. ‘A splendid birthday present for my favorite pupil’, he’d said, as if there were any others. But what was the reason? Surely you weren’t actually supposed to be a sex slave for him. Not in this sorry state. His battered onahole did a much better job on that front and it wasn’t prone to tantrums or crying, and it certainly didn’t pee on his stuff. It also didn’t require more than a perfunctory cleaning every few months. He couldn’t very well shove you into his nightstand and forget about it until the next time he was in the mood to rut into something.

All that was true, yes, but … his onahole also wasn’t warm to the touch, and it didn’t have soft, curly hair framing its abused slit (he really should buy a new one) nor did it self lubricate. It didn’t squeeze him quite the same way your pussy had squeezed his fingers, and it didn’t even really feel like an actual vagina now that he had something to compare it to. You were soft and squishy, pliable in the way only flesh and blood could be, and although he had no way of knowing if this had been All for One’s plan or not, he was certainly self aware enough to recognize that he’d screwed up somewhere along the line.

Tomura absolutely should have turned you to dust while he still had the chance.

Licking his lips, he drags the wipe through the seam of your cunt much more slowly than he needed to. You don’t even stir on the bed, and he thinks you must be starting to doze after … all of that. He’s not quite ready to leave well enough alone yet though, and he gently presses down on the spot where he now knows your clit is hiding. Still using the moist towelette as a pretense to keep touching you like this, he circles the sensitive little bud with it and genuine surprise washes over him when you let out a soft, pleasant sigh.

He glances up at your face but you aren’t even looking at him, lashes fanned out against the apples of your cheeks. It’s hard to tell if you were actually asleep or just pretending so you could lull him into a false sense of security, yet he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. You were his so he could do whatever he wanted to you, right? Besides. You kind of owed him after pissing all over his hand like that.

Discarding the baby wipe, Tomura bends closer and carefully spreads your labia again. He could see your little hole weakly palpitating, beckoning him to pick back up where he’d left off, but he drags his gaze a bit higher instead. You were so velvety soft and smooth it bordered on insane, so much more inviting than he ever would have thought possible.

He briefly hesitates before throwing caution aside and sealing his lips around your clit, gently mouthing at it. Your plushy thighs twitch around his head as you shift on top of the mattress, letting out another breathy sound that rushes straight to his cock. It almost hurts, the way it so eagerly springs back to life after being denied something as simple as release, but he can’t find it in himself to complain. You were giving him another chance, knowingly or not, and he wasn’t the type to squander such an opportunity.

Tomura takes his time lapping at you over the next few minutes until you’re almost as wet as when he’d started. You taste heavenly even with the artificial flavor of the wipes clinging to your folds and he entertains the notion of eating you out until you cum all over his face. There’s something he wants even more than that, though, and he sighs in relief when he finally straightens up so he can fish his cock out. It was almost painfully sensitive to the touch, and he could feel it throbbing potently in his hand. He knew this probably wasn’t going to last long but he didn’t care.

Guiding himself to your waiting entrance, he slowly pushes in one fraction at a time, damn near blowing his load the second his glans disappears into your body. He holds back though, struggling to maintain his composure as he seethes through gritted teeth. You finally seemed to realize that something was going on and your pretty eyes flutter open, immediately searching out his face.

“Tomu-nii …?”

“Be quiet. I’ve got you.”

You accept that in lieu of an explanation surprisingly fast, at least by his standards, and without another word you sleepily glance down at the juncture where your bodies were connected. A slow inhale makes your chest rise, mouth falling open as if to groan. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” the sound rattles out of Tomura’s chest as he slides in right down to the base, toes flexing against the floor. “I’m not even gonna’ get to enjoy this.”

Brows knitting together, you let out the softest mewling sound he’s ever heard and it makes him dig his carefully poised fingers deeper into the meat of your hips. He can’t even bring himself to move, so overwhelmed by how soft and wet your guts are. It felt like you were massaging his length, involuntarily or not, as your pussy suckles at the tip like he’s almost positive your mouth would.

Softly wheezing, Tomura drops his chin to look at where the two of you were stuck together. His pelvis was so flush against yours that your pudgy cunt was molded to the front of him, squishing under the pressure, and his silvery pubes were tangled with your darker ones. He hadn’t expected such a sight to be so damn erotic and it has him twitching, fighting back the orgasm he’d gone through hell and back for.

He’s almost scared to do it but, slowly, he eases back. The way his cock gradually reappears, glistening obscenely now, very nearly sends him over the edge. He isn’t sure how he hasn’t ruptured yet, his ballsac drawn so tight and throbbing that it leaves him feeling lightheaded, but through sheer force of will alone he manages to sink back into the inviting heat of your body without spraying your insides white. His self control was tentative as best, hanging on by a mere thread, but you felt far too good to waste on a quick nut.

“Goddamn … you’re so tight, baby. So fucking tight.”

You fidget underneath him, fussily tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Mm’ not a baby …”

Your pouty little response is enough to make him bark out a clipped laugh, more breathless than amused. You could insist you weren’t a baby all you wanted but, even putting aside the cruel, infantile reprogramming of your brain, it was hard to think otherwise when you were spread out on top of a diaper. It’s stark white, cottony lining was an almost unsettling backdrop to the perfect view he had of his cock stuttering in and out of your slick cunt. Even when he was barely moving, it crinkled softly underneath you with each rocking motion of his hips and he couldn’t quite forget it was there no matter how hard he tried.

Tomura wasn’t sure what he would ultimately do with you and he knew even less why he was even entertaining this wildly absurd situation to begin with, but there was no denying that you did have some use. The clinging grip of your pussy, for starters, and if he could get that bratty mouth of yours under control he might even some day find your company bearable. He still didn’t particularly like you but it wasn’t so farfetched to think that he might be able to tolerate you, with enough effort.

Hissing through his teeth, he drags one of his hands down to spread your puffy lips apart and get a good look at the way your petal soft folds clutch to his cock. It was a mesmerizing visual in the worst possible way, especially when accompanied by the soft, wet clicking he pulls from your body. He could have watched this for hours on end but, realistically, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he gives his wrist a brief twist to bring the middle finger down on your clit.

You twitch at the contact but Tomura takes a much more gentle approach this time, sedately drawing circles around the swollen bud. He doesn’t get much in the way of a reaction for his trouble so he just keeps at it, rubbing you in tandem with his staggered thrusts. The thought of making you cum around his cock is almost disturbingly enticing, but he isn’t so sure he can accomplish that. Not when so much of his focus was devoted to simply biting back his orgasm - but then, to his throbbing surprise, you draw a faltering breath.

“Tomu-nii … feels good …”

It’s as if the air had been punched right out of him. He isn't so sure he even believes his own ears, the blood suddenly pounding inside of them making it hard to hear much of anything. He groans though, thick and heavy as he slides his other hand up across your stomach to push at the bottom of his shirt. Your grip on the soft cotton momentarily tightens, still fighting him at every turn, but you give in almost immediately and allow him to shove it over the swell of your tits.

They’re moving, jiggling ever so slightly with the push and pull of his narrow hips as they quietly slap against the backs of your thighs. Tomura heaves, practically doubling over you with another throaty moan that rises in pitch at the tail end. His palm descends on one of your breasts, squeezing hard enough that the pliable flesh bulges and spills out between four of his fingers. You just stare up at him the entire time, face pinched and flushed while your glistening eyes dreamily watch him with a far off sort of quality that he’s sure must be - has to be pleasure.

He’d never seen anything sexier in his whole life, and that thought alone is far more terrifying than he could have ever guessed it would be. There was something wrong with you, yes, by All for One’s design. But there was something even more inherently wrong with him for getting off on this so much and without the added bonus of quirk tampering to excuse his behavior. You were so sweet and unfairly innocent despite your seductive figure, the sight of you naked save his bunched up t-shirt driving him absolutely wild. It was like you belonged here, with him, in his bed. It wasn’t that he no longer wanted to kill you but that he couldn’t.

What little bit of self control he’d still been clinging to up until now shatters, and Tomura snaps his hips into your upturned ass: once, twice, three times. The sticky squelching between your bodies increases in volume, echoing inside his skull like a ricocheting bullet as he watches your face screw up at the sudden force. It doesn’t even matter though. He’s long since reached his limit and, with a wounded grunt, he slams into you one final time, lurching over your prone body.

The sound that comes out of his mouth as he shudders and violently paints your pink guts is, frankly, embarrassing. But he’s riding a high too great to care, clinging to you hard enough to make his joints ache and you whimper in discomfort. He can’t stop though. He’s cumming so hard, pulse after pulse, that it feels like his soul actually slips out of his body for a worryingly long beat before returning in fragmented pieces. The same, but also somehow different. Like he’d experienced rebirth in the warm, comforting clutch of your drenched cunt.

He wheezes as if he’d been stabbed in the chest when he finally eases his softening cock out of you some time later.

Tomura was completely spent, both physically and mentally. His wobbly legs could hardly support his weight anymore but, with a strength of mind he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he directs a shaky finger to your clit again. You squirm in response, huffing after that rough treatment, but he soothes you with hushed words and a gentle touch to the delicate little pearl he barely even needs to brush against to have you shaking for him.

“Relax. You feel good, don’t you? Let me hear those pretty sounds again, baby.”

Obstinately, you purse your lips together to deny him even that one simple request. Tomura heaves a tired sigh, wishing you weren’t such a brat, but he doesn’t let up. The gentle circles he rubs into your clit with the pad of his finger slowly brings you around though, grudgingly, and he can’t quite deny the satisfaction that sparks in his throat when your mouth warbles open to let loose the sweetest, tiny moan he’s ever heard.

“Nngh … Tomu-nii …!”

“Don't fight it. I want you to feel good too, yknow.” He pauses, tongue glancing over his dry lips. “Will you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, eyes screwing shut, but the way your body continues to tense up seems to suggest otherwise. He could tell you were practically thrumming with it, burning from the inside out even as his milky white discharge slowly oozes down your slit to pool in the seat of the diaper. It was unexpectedly exciting to watch, disproportionately naughty given how utterly unappealing the crinkly plastic was at first glance, and he picks up the pace of his rubbing.

“I think you’re lying again. You liked how it felt when I was inside you, right? This will be even better, I promise. You’ll love it. I know you will.”

Weakly writhing on top of his bed, you crack your eyes open to peer up at him again. “T - Tomu-nii … I can’t … ahh. Ahh. Ahh! I … I’m … ahh! Tomu-niiiii!”

You suddenly jerk, tossing your head back against the sheets, and he watches in rapt fascination as you quake so hard it nearly catches him off guard. It wasn’t the seductive, rolling tremors he was used to seeing in porn videos but, rather, a full bodied spasm that had you twisting as if to get away. Your thighs try to clamp shut around his hand but he elbows them apart, refusing to let up until he’d milked your orgasm as thoroughly as you’d milked his.

And you looked so pretty, too. Caught up in mind numbing pleasure so intense he couldn’t even begin to fathom what you were feeling. Even his own earth shattering release seemed to pale in comparison to this, and it takes you much longer to start coming down from it than it did him.

Your hair is a mess by the time you’re done, matted in some places and sticking to your damp forehead in others. For a fleeting moment, Tomura can almost see the adult woman you should have been when your face goes slack in ecstasy and your flushed lips were parted to suck in as much oxygen as you could get. He imagines you were probably no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, not with that body and those looks, so the thought that he could make you feel this good was a bit like a pat on the back for him. It was probably just beginners luck, but that didn’t stop him from feeling any less proud of himself.

Slowly, he takes his hands off you and steps back. The spot between your legs was absolutely covered in fluid, your sticky, copious slick mixing with his spunk to make a truly viscous concoction that clung to your damp curls. He thinks that he should probably clean you up again and reaches for the baby wipes, but stops himself short.

The idea that crosses his mind is very likely foul, perhaps even more offensive than anything else he’d done til now, but … a quick glance at your sloppy pussy proves too great a temptation. There was something inherently erotic about making you walk around with his semen dripping out of you, even if it was only going to be absorbed by the diaper, and he shuffles close again with his heart in his throat.

Tomura hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s doing and it takes him a long moment to figure out the tape tabs on the sides. He gets frustrated halfway through the process, struggling to make sure the crinkly plastic was secure enough around your waist, but by some miracle you stay relatively still through all of his fumbling. He isn’t quite sure how he got so lucky but he doesn’t stop to question it, hawkishly focusing all of his attention on the task at hand.

At length, he straightens to admire his work. It’s not perfect by any means but he’s pretty sure the damned thing wasn’t going to fall off as soon as you stood up so there was that. The diaper itself was just as obnoxiously girly as everything else in the gym bag; a soft, lilac purple with a flowery, cartoon bunny design on them. He didn’t mind the rabbits so much, and it was certainly preferable to the onesie, but he still thought you’d look nice in something a bit cooler.

The realization that he was thinking about this in such quaint, fuzzy terms chills Tomura to the bone, and his gaze flicks to your face so he can ask what you think of them. Even if only to distract himself from his own uncomfortably perverse change of heart.

But you were already asleep. He probably should have expected as much, and he could tell you were actually snoozing this time by the shallow, even rise and fall of your chest. A strange sense of embarrassment washes over him and he reaches out to delicately take the hem of his shirt between thumb and finger so he can tug it back down into place. You only snuggle further into the mattress though, getting comfortable, and further cementing the notion that he had, indeed, fucked up.

He’d never be able to get rid of you now.

Grumbling under his breath, Tomura leans over you with one hand braced on the mattress. The other slips between your legs, unable to squeeze shut now with the bulk of the diaper between them, and ever so carefully cups his palm over your crotch. It was cool to the touch, but if he pushed down hard enough he could feel the warmth of your body bleeding through. You let out a quiet huff in response, petulant towards him even in your sleep, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing. It was absurd. It was strange. It was strikingly, unequivocally weird, but he was almost glad he hadn’t disintegrated you or strangled you to death.

This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d wished for a woman he could do with as he pleased and not have to worry about her running away, but … it was close enough, he supposed.

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #self insert bullshit #my writing #I'll tag the series later #I don't know if I want this to show at the top of the main tags seems a bit like inviting trouble #I've wanted to write something like this for a very very long time and I just took advantage of Shigaraki's birthday to finally do it #blah #I make him cry bout' the pussy #prolly why my shit so wet #ahh 👅

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