#let the parasite slowly take over you

[sandeewithtwoe]

What have you done. I always used to hate Fresh cuz I can't draw him.

W H Y A M I S U C C E S S F U L L Y D R A W I N G H I M .

YOU HAVE NOW GAINED THE POWER TO FINALLY SEE HOW MUCH FUN HE IS TO DRAW. YOU CANNOT UNDO THIS.

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Daily fish fact #6 444 205

Fish!

The fish like to have a little drink :) Sadly as they drink the water around them they also drink their own pee, and that is the curse that they will have to live with for the rest of their life

#fish #fishfact #fish facts #fishblr #biology #zoology

( 2 notes )

🪼 clovergonads follow

Tasseled wobbegong women >>>>>>>>>>>

🐸 i-eat-skin follow

bitch those are goosefish

( 27,196 notes )

🐚 seashell-on-the-seashore follow

Say what you want about fishblr updates, but I think this format for reblubs is a wonderful improvement over the previous one. One of the only times staff did good.

🐚 seashell-on-the-seashore

@featherstar53 If reblub chains got too long, new reblubs would start appearing as darker and darker until you couldnt see the text anymore. It mimicked how light disappears as you go deeper in the ocean but the sunken code this webbedsite runs on never set a cap for how dark it gets, so eventually you would have to copy ad paste the text on the reblubs onto somewhere to read them.

🐍 swamplamprey follow

It sounds fake but it's true! You can still find some older fishblr post screenshots with this effect:

This even went for full abyssal mode users! In their case, the text would slowly turn from white to dark blue, effectively making it impossible to read against the black background.

🦞 fastest-claw-in-the-west follow

I think it would be super funny if they brought this back but for individual posts. Like the reblubs stay the same colour but the posts themselves get gradually and gradually darker until you can't see them anymore lol. It would be disastrous but also funny and it might finally stop some of you frys from being so addicted to this webbedsite

#im all for a bit of chaos lol #treasure trove: talking tag

( 730 notes )

🌿 invertlike-behaviour follow

Okay for the record. My eyes are Red because I'm a COMMON ROACH! RUTILUS RUTILUS! It's not because I smoke seaweed!

🌿 invertlike-behaviour

Okay Yes I smoke seaweed all day. But the specific reason my eyes are red is Not That

( 104 notes )

🦈 spiritually-placoderm follow

🫧 surgeonsturgeon follow

OP you forgot brackish water and the option for inhabiting both

🦈 spiritually-placoderm

Shut your inferior ass mouth up

🫧 surgeonsturgeon

#(i couldnt find the actual gif i wanted to use but this weird tiger shark will have to do) #(not sure why his fins look like that)

( 1,020 notes )

☀️ slenderfish follow

"ocean sunfish have over 40 parasite species" factoid actualy just statistical error. average ocean sunfish is infected with only one or two parasites. Parasites Georg, the mola who suffers from every ailment known to fish and has over 1 000 000 000 parasite species infesting his flesh and organs, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

( 193,239 notes)

🪷 trout-about-you follow

Selfieeeee :3 (ignore the two sea lampreys attached to my flesh)

🪲 toebiter follow

how did you take the picture you aren't holding your phone

🪷 trout-about-you

The sea lamprey on the left took it for me

( 58 notes )

🔲 salmonidae-supremacy-deactivated

FISH USED TO MIGRATE THOUSANDS OF MILES TO BREED. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!!!!

IN MY DAY PUSSFISH LIKE THIS WOULD GET EATEN ALIVE BY REAL RIVER MONSTERS FOR BREAKFAST.

🐟 darting-action follow

these are Siamese fighting fish bruh.... They don't have migration as part of their life cycle lmao

🔲 salmonidae-supremacy-deactivated

OF COURSE THE YOUTH CAN'T PUNCTUATE THEIR SENTENCES PROPERLY. I SHOULDN'T EXPECT SO MUCH FROM THE SOFT FRY THEY ARE. ALWAYS GETTING RILED UP!

🔲 skip-hopper-deactivated

Ignore this guy, @darting-action. He's well known for saying offensive nonsense like this, I think he's bait and trying to get someone to bite.

🔲 salmonidae-supremacy-deactivated

YOU MUST BE ONE OF THOSE INBRED DOMESTIC SCUM OR HATCHED YESTERDAY SINCE YOU ENTIRELY LACK THICK SCALES. I SPEAK THE TRUTH AND ONLY THE TRUTH. IF YOU GET TRIGGERED THEN THAT'S NATURAL SELECTION, SON. YOU SHOULD FIGHT ME IN REAL LIFE.

🔲 walrus-tits-in-my-mouth-deactivated

You really dont know a thing about natural selection, do you? Bettas have flashy fins because they have to seem threatening to possible competitors. They don't migrate so they aren't built for that. They're built for living in ponds and marshes, low oxygen environments, and by cod, they are built for fighting territorial battles! You shouldn't underestimate a fish literally called fighting fish. They're very tough and hardy fish and can even send larger fish fleeing!

🔲 salmonidae-supremacy-deactivated

SIAMESE FLAILING PUSSFISH HAVE LADY FINS BECAUSE THEY'RE WEAK AND SOFT AND HAD HUMANS DECIDE WHO THEY BREED WITH FOR THEM. THEIR QUOTE UNQUOTE "FIGHTING PROWESS" SURE DIDN'T SAVE THEM FROM BEING PRISSY LITTLE PRINCESS FISHIES FOR LITTLE KIDS DID IT? THE INDUBIDABLE FACT IS THAT THEY'RE MUSKIE FOOD.

🔲 iknowthecrabbypattysecretformula-deactivated

Wait a minute... I recongize that picture on the right! That's from @betta-than-this 's OnlyFins! How did you get that picutre hmmm? Salmonidae? How on Ocean did you gain access huh?

🐠 betta-than-this follow

"Indubidable" is a pretty specific word to use. This you @salmonidae-supremacy-deactivated?

🔲 iknowthecrabbypattysecretformula-deactivated

LMAOOOOOO GOTTEMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

🔲 aquarium-life-deactivated

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

🐟 darting-action

woag i never saw this entire chain before until it hit me on my dashboard. Why does this have so many notes

Thanks fishblr user walrus tits in my mouth for biology info i didn't know

🫖 burgle-the-turts follow

Woah woah woah we're just gonna ignore this guy using p*ssfish as an insult!!???? THE CATFISH SLUR????????? No one is going to bring this up!!!!!???????

🔲 tilapia11128-deactivated

does anyone in this thread smoke seaweed

🌊 herringageposts follow

date of origin: 28th of august, 2017

( 392,229 notes )

🟧 sponsored

Suffering all alone, handsome?

No need to anymore.

👄 pollywannacracker follow

Reblub with your favorite snack in the tags! I’ll go first: coral polyps! :}

🚬 shark-noir follow

@ninjalantern-999

#as for me #my fave is definitely my lower set of teeth when they shed #crumchy :D

( 295 notes )

🩸 must-lunge follow

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STUPID HUMAN DROPPED ITS ELECTRONIC CAMERA IN THE LAKE!!!!!!!! NEVER GETTING THAT BACK BUB!!!!!! I'M TELLING ALL MY ISOPOD AND MUSSEL FRIENDS AND THEY'RE GONNA LIVE INSIDE IT!!!!!

🧑 official-human-posts follow

ofishal human post

#ofishal human post #this post contains humans

( 891 notes )

🦦 hellofromtheotterslide follow

Wait, how come this site is called fishblr and not something like oceanblr or aquablr? Wouldn't that be more inclusive?

👑 goldielocks follow

I believe the name "fishblr" pays homage to the meaning of the word where just about everything in the water was considered a fish. It's why we have words like "shellfish", "whalefish", "jellyfish", "starfish".

Personally aquablr would work really well, too. There's a sizeable amphibious userbase on here.

🦐 worldwideshrimp follow

You forgot whale shark! Those arent fish either but are called fish

👑 goldielocks

....Whale sharks are fish. They are sharks. It's in the name.

🦎 eye-of-newt follow

But I thought it was a whale named after sharks? WHALE shark! Why else would they put whale up first?

👑 goldielocks

A whale named after a shark would be called a shark whale. You can take one look at a whale shark and see that, with its gills and fish tail, it is a shark.

⚪️ number1-seacucumber-ass-enjoyer-77 follow

Wait, then what about baby whales? Are those whales named after babies?

👑 goldielocks

If you're talking about the actual whale babies, then yeah. If you mean the mormyrids, small aquatic animals that can sense electricity, then no, those are fish. Sometimes names are inaccurate to what the animal really is.

🌌 themanta1234 follow

If you think about it, fishblr is also inclusive to aquatic tetrapods since they are lobe-fins, and therefore fish :D It's a term that can include everyone on here, the perfect catchall!

🦑 abyssal-gigantism follow

Ewwww fuck that definition. If mammals hear about them being fish on some sort of """"technicality"""" then this webbedsite is gonna get flooded with those self-important idiots! "OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOOOO LoOk At MeEeEeEeEEE i'M a MaMmAL!!11!!! I TAKE CARE of mah BAAABIEEEES!1111 I'm SUCH a good MAMAAA!!! All those OTHER STUPID HEARTLESS ANIMALS could NEVER do as I DO!!! I LOVE sweating into my BAABIEEEES' MOUTH1!1!1!111!!! I'm FLUFFY and AWSUM and ERRYBODDY LUUUVSSSSS MEE!!!!!!!!!!111!!!!!!! You should all LUV me TOO!!!!"

Is THAT how you want every fishblr post to look!!!!??????

🦛 drippohippo follow

😨

🪄 magicmanatee45 follow

DD:

🎼 humpbacked-musician-offishal follow

:'''((((

🐋 blainvilles-bitch follow

🕶️ egg-laying-mammal-of-action follow

:///////////

🐢 greenXD follow

i think jellyfish shouldn't be classified as fish because they're clearly living spaghetti

🌜 foolish-idol follow

Great fucking post everyone. Hit the air bubblers

( 60,376 notes )

🟩 ultrahyva-heihoi follow

Guys what the fuck kind of sponsors does fishblr have I just saw an ad for having parasites housed in me who are they advertising to 😭💀💀

#i swear the quality of this site keeps going down and down #if you see ads for parasites then report the shit out of em #fuck em my friend got early onset cataracts due to parasites

( 4 notes )

😃 doweopenandcloseourmouthtoday follow

Yes! :) :O :) :O :) :O :) :O

[suksatoru]

004. CARNATIONS

"Oh my."

You squint at the paper in your hands and try to decipher the words Touya had written on them with a wince. The letters were jumbled up—some of them didn't even resemble anything in the alphabet. The majority of the words you were able to understand were spelt wrong, and the proportion from one letter to the next was horrific.

"We'll work on your writing skills later this week, alright? But I'm proud you could get this much down! " You say with a smile as Touya snorts

"There's only one word I know I spelt right." He smirks, proudly pointing a finger to a sentence you'd missed towards the bottom of the page

Y/n L/n is beyutiful.

You laugh quietly as his smirk quickly transforms into a scowl. His poor attempt at flirting didn't really seem to work if you were laughing at him.

"Are you talking about how you wrote my name correctly? Because its spelling is clearly displayed on my name tag, Touya."

You can only laugh more at his grimace, folding the written paper in half before tucking it into his file folder to go over later.

"And thank you I suppose. Oh, I just wanted to let you know I won't be able to go on our walk today, Touya. I have a meeting with my supervisor. Would you like me to find another doctor for you to—"

"No. And what's the meeting about?"

You shake your head softly at his defiance before smiling

"You. You are my only patient, after all."

He smiles a little bit at those words.

The conversation slowly drifted to Touya giving you small snippets of the skills he had to learn after waking up all those years ago. By the end of the conversation though, his mood had fallen quite a bit. He didn't like talking about his past. The words were bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out for you. He wanted you to understand him—he needed you to.

"I couldn't understand what happened to me. I had so much shit going for me... so much potential. Then I went and fucked it all up. You know, I blamed him for how I turned out, but I think I was messed up from the start. Can't blame that piece of shit if I was born like this. Defected. " He mutters, his eyes hard as his nails dig into his palm.

Defected. He swears under his breath when he sees the blood trickling down his arm from clenching his fist too tightly. His gaze moves towards you when he feels your fingers press a soft cloth to his hand to soak up the blood. You clear your throat before speaking

"You're no defect." You start firmly

"No one is. You had these terrible expectations set for you when you were so young. You can't possibly blame yourself for what happened! So many young children struggle with their quirk, and you weren't fortunate enough to get the help you deserved. That is not your fault—"

"But I could've been better. If I worked hard enough. Fuck, it might have all been my fault from the start!" He laughs hoarsely, and his eyes have a crazed look in them as he actually considers the possibility

"But—"

"Maybe if I had just—"

"Touya!"

Your voice is strained. You're trying so hard not to let him hear the tremble in your voice, but the way his shoulders slump lets you know he had caught it. He looks away, his lips set in a firm line as his eyes harden

"I don't want to talk about this." He mutters. Every muscle in his body was tense as a feeling of unease settled over him.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm being too pushy about this." You sigh, frowning as you lean back in your seat. You were his doctor, you can't be the one having an emotional crisis! You were meant to be his emotional support, and the guilt you feel gnaws at you like a parasite.

He lets out a long sigh, shifting on the bed uncomfortably as you take a deep breath

"Okay—alright, we can talk about something else. Is there anything besides this on your mind? Maybe we could—"

"Can I be alone for a bit? Can you, just, leave?"

The look on your face is like a slap to his face. He bites his tongue from saying anything he'd regret as your eyes fill with a mix of something between sadness and disappointment.

"Yes—yes of course. Uhm, would you still like to eat dinner together tonight?"

"I just need some time alone. My head hurts. It's my fault, it's never yours. Just... yeah, yeah you can come later." He mumbles, avoiding your gaze as his guilt finally hits him

"...Okay."

Your whisper is the last thing he hears before the door to his room clicks close, and when he lifts his head from his palms—the room is empty.

Touya doesn't know if he'll ever be able to face his family again.

He thought he couldn't feel anything anymore. The pain he'd once felt was immeasurable, something uncontainable to the point where he'd grown numb and accustomed to it. But now he felt all sorts of things he didn't understand. You made him feel again. He wasn't sure if he should curse you out or thank you for it.

Your long awaited return came after almost two hours, his dinner tray in hand as you carefully placed the steaming rice bowl in front of him. You stand beside his bed with an awkward smile, your hands behind your back as you speak a quiet hi.

He tugs on your sleeve, pulling you down so you were seated on your chair. A quiet squeak leaves the back of your throat when he tucks a single hand under your thigh, dragging your chair closer to him easily with little effort. Your eyes are wide from the new proximity as he turns back to his food, acting like nothing had happened.

You're speechless for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat as he begins his dinner. He points to your bowl with his chopsticks, gently nudging it towards you

"You hungry?"

He had broken the ice so easily—and you both fell back into your usual routine. An unspoken 'it's ok' was what he'd said as he handed you your bowl. You blow on the hot rice with a small smile as he begins questioning you about your meeting, asking whether or not you said good things about him.

You shouldn't like this so much.

Your chin is resting on your knees, you laugh as Touya tells you tales about the League. They were a unique group—but knowing Touya wasn't completely alone during his time as "Dabi" makes your heart feel a little lighter.

He speaks about the League as if they were still here. Fondly.

Your eyes catch onto the clock on his bedside, the block letters on them reading 11:32 PM. Your time with him had passed faster than you wished—and he watches you stretch before you stand

"Time for you to turn in for the night, mister." You smile with a yawn. He frowns a bit as he glances at the clock, watching you reach over and grab the empty bowls from dinner.

"I'll take this down to the kitchen. You wash up while I'm gone, all right?" You smile, holding the tray in your hands as Touya nods slowly, not giving you a verbal response.

When the door closes, he gets off the bed with a quiet sigh. Even after splashing his face with freezing water—his heart still hurts.

You were making him feel a little too much.

His mind keeps trailing back to your soft giggles and the way your professional face falls with the stupidly silly stories he tells you of the League.

He wonders if they'd be happy for him.

Touya hears your approaching footsteps as he's exiting the bathroom, and quickly opens the main room door for you.

You look surprised when the door opens before you can even get your keys out. You have to crane your head up a bit to meet his eyes—which are watching you intently.

Sometimes you forget how Touya's much taller than you are. He's usually at eye level with you when he's sitting in the hospital bed—but as he stands in front of the open door, your lips part a bit from the way he looms over you.

He silently moves over a bit to give you space to enter before closing the door behind you. You send him a small smile before tilting your head towards his bed

"I'll check your heart rate before I leave tonight. That's ok with you, right?"

Your eyes are pretty. Touya thinks if he ever has a staring competition with you, he'd win for sure. He likes staring at you especially when you're unaware. There's something about just knowing you exist that calms him. He likes seeing you smile, he likes hearing you talk—he especially loves that you seem to enjoy his company. He didn't think of himself as someone enjoyable to be around, but he feels wanted around you.

Touya's never felt wanted before. You were so refreshing to simply be around—he'd be perfectly content with living the rest of his life with only you. He didn't need or want anyone else.

"Yeah. That's fine with me."

Touya waits for you on the edge of his bed, his eyes trailing on you quietly as you wrap a stethoscope around your neck. The cold metal is pressed against his chest, and he realizes you've never been this close to him before.

"Touya, your heartbeat is a little faster than it should be." You frown, leaning in closer as he stays absolutely silent—he's been holding his breath since the moment you pressed the stethoscope to his skin

He's staring at you, and his heart only beats faster when you turn to meet his gaze.

No. Your eyes are beautiful.

He abruptly flicks off the lamp on his bedside table, which was the only source of light in the dark room before immediately laying himself down on the bed—his heart was pounding now.

"I'm fine."

He can already imagine your lips forming that adorable 'O' you make when you're startled, and he rests his forearm against his eyes before letting out a steadying breath.

"Oh! Well, are you sure Touya? Your vitals this morning were fine, so—"

"Y/n."

Your silence, for once, was a welcomed thing. His face was burning—every fiber of his being was. He didn't think he'd be able to go another second listening to your wonderful voice utter another damned word.

You whisper a quiet goodnight before leaving.

He stares up at the ceiling, the glowing stars almost mocking him as he sighs

"Goodnight."

You've already left the room, but he whispers the word anyway.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n~ i was listening to taylor swift on repeat while writing this... safe to say she is my fuel when it comes to writing for carnations heh. AND WOWW SO MANY ON THE TAGLIST?! u guys are now my children i've chosen to adopt you all!!! it's getting a little hard to keep track of but i got this 🫡

@kelin-is-writing

@kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse @starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo

@bbluefllame @summercreolefanfictioner @dija200 @phtmmsqrde @sunaraii

@c-lunette @gh0stgirl333 @skullkittens @gurl-pls-evn-the-sharks-fear-me

@hawkwithsocks @suresnips @sugurusmoon @matchablossomsss @moonlitmorganite

@redr0sewrites @muimuiwisteria @sukunaspillow @marsoverthestars @starsryi

@eidolonwriter @shugs1801 @imaginationmess @lasa27 @sophiathefrog

@etaerealboy @kooromin @sourbbyxo @hvnares @ephmeraloblivion

@lost-seraphiim @quokka-ina @jesuschrist2006 @jesuschrist2006

@dabislittlemouse (i got u B!!)

[arminsumi]

PRIEST GETO

GETO すぐる + fem!reader

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : contains 18+ content, smut/erotica, religious themes, sacrilegious themes, solo m*sturbation, unprotected sex, creampies, virgin!Geto, not proofread

Priest!Geto has just one conversation with you, and immediately thinks to himself, "You're gonna be the reason I go to hell."

Priest!Geto's narrow eyes catch on your curves and he feels something click in his brain, then he quickly looks away as if singed by his sinful desires.

Priest!Geto is so taken aback when you outright tell him that you're sexually attracted to him. "Oh... well... I'm sorry I can't reciprocate the feeling... you know why." he tries to sound indifferent, but there's a heat rising up his neck.

Priest!Geto has to hook a finger on his clerical collar to tug at it when he sees you sitting in the pews. Your presence is so strong to him.

Priest!Geto is violently shaken up when you accidentally touch him. You once sat next to him, pressing your thigh to his more muscular thigh, and he could barely think, his brain malfunctioned like he was simply a 19 yr old college boy in need of pussy. You're so soft, you're so soft, you're so fucking soft and perfect he hates it with his soul. He just wants to know what it feels like to sink his pure fingers into the flesh of a creature as sinful as you.

Priest!Geto tries so hard not to think unholy thoughts of you, he clutches his rosary tight in his veiny hands and kneels at his bed every night, praying... but then you enter his mind like a beautiful little parasite and then he feels his cock sitting upright; stiff and leaky and begging for something soft to lay inside. He tells himself "Just once can't hurt..." and jerks himself nervously to the idea of you taking his cock in your sinning hands... sinning mouth... slutty sinning pussy... aw, he cums so hard he shakes and can't catch his breath. His cum is so thick, spurting out his curved cock, decorating his lower abdomen and trail of hair down there.

Priest!Geto inhales sharply when you stand too close next to him, like the proximity offends his whole body; his hands are folded neatly over his crotch as he tries to conceal the outline of his cock as it starts pronouncing itself through his pants.

Priest!Geto loathes the days you don't visit the church or come to enjoy lunch with your friend. He sits there, bored by dull conversations that he shouldn't be bored by, and pokes at his meal... the only thing that's appetizing to him is you, your company, your disrespectful flirting, your unexpected little remarks.

Priest!Geto to you is a steadfast believer, calm and unaffected by your provocations. But you see cracks in his demeanor; how he shifts uncomfortably when you talk to him in that soft voice, how he has to clear his throat before responding, how he zones out after you say something suggestive as if he's contemplating pouncing on you and sticking his tongue in your mouth.

Priest!Geto goes straight into denial about aching for your lips around his cock, even though he's having wet dreams about it. Some mornings he wakes from a dream of you sucking on his thick cock, and he looks up at the ceiling and groans... because he came against his thigh in his sleep... a gooey sticky sinful mess.

Priest!Geto is convinced that God sent you to him to test his discipline... and he knows he's fucked. He hates tying his hands behind his back. Do you know how badly those hands want to nest in your hair and pull on it while he stuffs you up?

Priest!Geto slowly feels his discipline weakening the more he's exposed to you and your charms.

Priest!Geto freezes up when you kiss him one day when you're alone together. "We can't do that..." he's breathlessly talking, hands grabbing your arms to pry you off of him... oh god how is he breathless over one kiss? His hands start shaking when you kiss him again. "F-fuck... we really can't do this..." he's moaning in no time, even whimpering and closing his eyes, letting himself get engulfed in dirty pleasure while you explore his body with your lips.

Priest!Geto whimpers from oversensitivity when he sinks his fat cock into you, telling himself that losing his virginity to a slut like you is forgivable... oh and his animalistic thrusts? Those are forgivable too. And the way he looks at you, like he's consumed by lust? That's also forgivable.

Priest!Geto crawls back to you for more after that, but at the same time pushes you away. He's a conflicted man. But when he's balls deep draining himself in your pussy, calling you a "bad girl" and a "sinner", he's a simple man.

Priest!Geto moans "sin for me, darling..." while cumming so deep inside that not a single drop of his sticky seed drips out. He leaves your pussy a sloppy, gushing mess.

Priest!Geto feels a rush, a dizzying and lustful rush, when you look at him during mass now; your little wink and lick of your lips makes him stutter throughout the passage he's reciting.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[huicitawrites]

Patiently Craving 

Yandere! Sukuna x Reader 

warnings: major jjk spoilers (non/manga readers, or manga readers not up to date), assault, yandere behaviour

word count: 4k

It has been a long, arduous, night of study- you and Yuuji stayed up past twelve to finish a history group work. Jujutsu history homework was no easy task, for there were various curses, clans, battles, cursed techniques, and objects to recall. Still, the two of you managed to push through with the blessed help of some energy drinks and snacks. 

Yuuji sighed as he carried over a blanket to your form that was passed out on the couch. The pink-haired boy felt a little bit guilty; he should be the one sleeping on the couch. It was common courtesy that he should lend you his bed if you were staying over at his dorm. 

But you insisted, and ever so persistent, Yuuji could not get past you. So now here he was, gently placing down a blanket over your form to keep you warm. 

The blanket was slowly descending when it happened again. 

For just a second, an extremely dangerous second, Yuuji’s body shook. His face contorted uncontrollably, his eyebrows trembled, and a wicked grin plastered itself. Out of his own bodily command, Yuuji’s eyes widened and the hidden eyelids in his cheekbones popped open. 

The monster threatened to come out. 

But then, Itadori Yuuji’s contained him, again. 

Yuuji’s hand had tossed the blanket. He bent over to pick it up. His lips were tight against each other and he flared his nostrils to get a good breath of air. He opened his mouth wide and as he exhaled, he tried to let his body loose and ignore the stiffness of his muscles. He settled the blanket on you, and this time, he was hesitant to touch your body or get any closer. 

His face showed despair and signs of concern, and his heartbeat fast and climbed in his throat. 

He was afraid, but he better not show, not let the monster know. Yet Yuuji knew of such to be naive, for the curse is one with his body, a parasite- and Yuuji is his vessel. 

“Don’t be a fool.” A voice, deep, rumbly, and cunning spoke. Its words laced with the venom of mockery as a soft, condensing, chuckle vibrated after. 

A voice, a tone, Yuuji was familiar with. The one he despised the most, Sukuna Ryomen. 

He glares down with his four eyes from the comfort of his skull-throne, a tall phantom tori-gate framing his body and painting him in a royal manner- The King of Curses, of course. 

Itadori clicked his tongue and blew air against his lips his eyebrows, furrowed, and with much annoyance he faced his enemy forth. 

“What do you want, Sukuna?” 

He is not scared to say his name, if anything, he is tired of saying it. He spits it out without any hint of respect, the King's antics have grown old and bothersome on him. Sukuna’s grin twists into a cheshire smile and he scrutinizes Yuuji with his hellish crimson irises. 

“You know well what I want,” His head cocks to the side and lands on his clawed palm, the other set of fingers tapping rhythmically on the throne’s armrest. 

Usually, Yuuji tries to keep his cool. The pink-haired boy is aware of the manipulative tactics and shenanigans of the curse, so he knows better than to give in and be played by his words to physically maintain him at bay. 

Albeit, this is not the case, not when it is about the life of a friend. More so when it is about his unexpected and inexplicable obsession, he has with you. Yuuji does not know how or why, but you have caught the eye of Sukuna. 

“Fuck you,” Yuuji spat at him, and Sukuna simply laughed, “I will never let you, ever.” Yuuji looked up at him to challenge him, meeting his piercing stare with one of his own dark eyes. 

Sukuna’s cheeks puffed, only to explode into wild laughter. Yuuji simply stand still, tall, and straight- unfazed. He must not lose his cool, not let him grasp the reigns. 

He must not take over, not with you here so close and vulnerable. 

Surely, people have priorly done this- the feat of impressing the King. Gojo, who is the strongest and Sukuna's biggest threat, and Megumi for some reason Yuuji has not yet deciphered. In any case, it is their power and potential that beckons Sukuna, and which made them appear worthy, he guessed.  

With you- it is completely different. You are not a particularly strong sorcerer; you are at the same level as him and Kugisaki. You also lack any inherited technique. heavenly pact or extraordinary mumbo-jumbo from the jujutsu world. 

And yet- you caught his interest. Somehow, your presence grew on Sukuna. At first Yuuji did not notice, for it was subtle. Like a little gut-feeling whenever he was around you, like he could suddenly feel Sukuna paying attention and listening with keen ears, 

After a while, it became more obvious, but not obvious enough. If Yuuji happened to walk away from you, be it because he was heading somewhere else or something, his body protested. His legs became a bit heavier, and his torso and shoulders tried slightly to twist in your direction. Even further- Sukuna's mouth began to pop out randomly but in your presence. Sometimes, the curse would tease you or mock you, or smile wickedly at you- all which made Yuuji apologize profusely. 

The last, most prominent, bright red flag which slapped Yuuji into the implications of Sukuna's undivided attention occurred in a mission two months ago. The four of you had been sent to exterminate a couple of small grade curses, and unfortunately the lot of you miscalculated the situation. A special-grade curse, a cursed womb to be precise, rose within the shadows and overwhelmed the team. Yuuji was out of breath, Kugisaki had only a few nails left and Fushiguro had already spent more than half his arsenal, and you were far from them, snatched by the throat by the curse. You were passing out on its claws as you thrashed through your last breath. Yuuji recalls vividly how your writhing form made the curse inside of him snap.  

Itadori was surprised to find himself detached from his body as he watched from a spectator's standpoint. His body launched at top velocity and obliterated the curse with one swipe of his hand. Merciless, unbound, and wild- yet delicate when he held you. This had never happened before, Sukuna would never help someone else, Yuuji was testimony to that when Sukuna laughed cruelly alongside Mahito at Junpei's tragic predicament. 

But there you were, unharmed on his arms, passed out, and Yuuji swore he even felt Sukuna clutch you tighter. Heck, his clawed hand carefully caressed your face and nudged aside the hair strands. Oh, this was fucked up, he realized. So, he did what was entrusted to him, and regained control of his body. Kugisaki and Megumi observed with widened eyes and slacked jaws. The silence between the three of them was loud and spoke volumes. That day the three of them expressed their concerns to their teacher and decided to hide this incident from you- in their version of the tale, Yuuji saved you, which was half-the-truth in the least. 

After the incident that almost cost you your life, Sukuna got worse. He was unbearable and unashamed, the curse attempted to take over his body numerous times. Anytime, anywhere. In Jujutsu High, during missions, in the streets even. It was tiresome, but Yuuji would not budge. He even tried to distance himself from you, but your friendly self was too naive to notice.  

Each day, Yuuji fights to keep his body to himself and protect you, and Sukuna fights to break free and do whatever he wants with you, which terrified Yuuji. 

Yuuji didn't realize how close Sukuna got to him whilst he was lost in thought and memory, but realization had been too late by the time the Cursed King delivered a blow right to his gut. The two-eyed salmon haired coughed in pain and fell to the ground, and his counterpart used this opportunity window to press the sole of his foot on his face, harshly. Yuuji's skull resisted, and the palm of his hands went to both sides of his chest, but he couldn't pick himself a centimeter up. His face was flushed and rubbed onto the mysterious watery floor, and Sukuna chuckled devilishly. 

"Just what exactly do you plan to do to stop me? You cannot even pick yourself up, idiotic brat" The force pushing him into the floor got stronger, the foot twisted deeper into his cheek. Yuuji opened his mouth in any way he mustered, but before any words came out of his mouth, Sukuna fully stomped his feet and Yuuji sank into the water. 

He woke up on the tatami of his dorm in cold sweat and rushing heartbeat, a dry throat to top it all. '(Y/n)!', Yuuji snapped his head to glance at the coach. He stood up desperately, his legs stumbling, and he fell on the coach's armrest. His own eyes scanned your sleeping form; indeed, you were resting peacefully.  

Itadori Yuuji's body collapsed on itself slowly. He fell on his rear, and then tired on his back. He faced the plain ceiling. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. Once he gathered himself, Yuuji glanced out the window and distinguished the light and smooth colors of dawn.  

Fuck, it was late. 

Naturally, he sought out the clock hanging on his dorm wall and his hand came to his forehead, where it damped. He brought it up his hair before it slid down to cover his eyes, and a series of swear words and curses left his mouth in a hush manner. 

Time, he was running out of time. 

“Fushigoro?” 

Itadori Yuuji asked with a cracked voice. As an answer, he only received the distorted laughs of his friend, Megumi Fushigoro - no, of the curse possessing his friend, Ryomen Sukuna. 

‘Fuck, fuck! How could this be?!’ 

Both you and Yuuji stood frozen in place, shocked. The tables had turned drastically, never had you entertained the thought of Sukuna switching into another vessel, least of all Megumi. 

You took a quick glance at Yuuji. He looked heartbroken. Sukuna looked delighted, joyous, ecstatic. He ran his hands on his new hair, feeling the black locks of Fushigoro Megumi. 

“Stupid brat, you didn’t really think through our Binding Vow,” he blurted in between laughs, his voice alien to his body as the red eyes filled with mockery and disdain. 

“Die.” 

You saw Megumi, no, Sukuna, incoming, and you picked up your stance, you looked sideways to Yuuji, and - 

“Yuuji!!! Dodge!!!” You cried out for your friend, your arm desperately reaching for him, your body ready to sabotage its survival instincts to push him out of the way. 

But you were too slow, and he did not move a muscle. He just stood there and took the powerful blow. 

Eyes widened; you saw him spit out blood. With a single blow to the gut, Sukuna blasted Yuuji away, and his body crashed through several buildings, far from your sight.  

It is about damn, fucking time. That Itadori brat has had his use, and at this point, he was becoming more of a prison than a vessel. Although dumb, weak, and naive, that brat did only one thing right. 

He could restrain him. 

Every.single.fucking.time. 

Sukuna had tried more than a couple of times to catch you off guard. When you turned around, when you were too focused to notice your surroundings, when you stayed over to sleep at the brat's, when you were too weak and exhausted to fight, or simply anytime Ryomen Sukuna desired. 

And each single fucking time, the damn brat stopped him. 

But now, now that was a thing of the past. A nuisance he no longer had to deal with. Not as he had the body of Megumi Fushigoro under his control, and with a single punch to the gut, that weakling was done with. 

Sukuna laughed, his eyes wide and mad, his pupils dilated, and his toothy grin wicked. 

About. Damn. Fucking. Time. 

Horror painted a canvas on your face, and despair formed a pit in your chest, but despite it all, you managed to cast a spell. Even with a tight lump inside your throat, you brought your hands together in a seal - your last two fingers crossed each other and the first three touched each other. 

“Caladrius!” You conjured a white owl Shinigami big enough to carry you. You grasped its feathers to propel yourself upwards and climb it, but a tough arm grabbed you by the ankle. 

“Oh, no, you won’t.” 

He pulled you down, and you failed to resist his strength, but you were quick to command the owl to set off on its own. It was more important that it reached Yuuji, for his sake, yours, and Megumi’s - if he was still there, he had to be there, deep down. 

With the usurped body of your friend, his black hair thrown back out of his usual hairstyle and sinister signature tattoos invading his skin, the ‘borrowed’ arms went around your waist, and his sharp claws slightly tore the layers of your clothes, prodding at the skin below. 

“Do you like my new host, [Y/n]? I sure do; it feels refreshing,” The usurper said nonchalantly in your ear as you struggled against his frame. He chuckled at your struggle, finding it cutely futile if anything. 

Sukuna lowered his head into the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent. He was slow, painfully so, taking his sweet time in tormenting you. 

"So sweet," he whispered in your ear, but blood did not rush to your face nor taint the tips of your ears. No. That intimidating aura, that immeasurable amount of cursed energy so close to you. 

You froze. 

You could die here and now. 

Only when you felt a slim sensation up your neck, dangerously close to your jugular, did you wince. Snapping out of your shocked state, you began to thrash in his hold. 

Sukuna merely chuckled; you could feel his chest and abdomen rising and falling against your back. He laughed and laughed, baring his teeth and fangs, his four eyes brimming with joy. He dragged his maniacal display until it ended with a satisfactory sigh. His expression fell, his grin fell flat, and his eyes narrowed. 

“You don’t have any idea how much I wanted out from that Itadori brat." the King of Curses sighed. 

His arms began to snake around your waist, and his clawed hands grasped your skin. His sharp nails dragged tightly against your skin, leaving a thin reddish trail behind, but you were too focused on his words. “All this time I have been looking at you, woman, my woman. My future queen.” Such a passionate confession would leave anyone stuttering with a mad blush, but this was Ryomen Sukuna, the enemy of all enemies, the worst of curses, a threat to any living being - he couldn’t be serious, this just could not be real. 

This was madness. 

“You made friends with two weak and idiotic boys, did you know? But I must admit, at least that damn Itadori brat did quite the job in restraining me.” His nails began to feel tighter on your skin and were threatening to tear into you at any moment. 

“All this time, I’ve been craving you.” He parted his lips and brought out his tongue, lapping it all the way up your neck. Sukuna relished it - he could taste your fear, and he loved it. 

It was addicting. 

He continued, “Now, now [Y/N]. If I had to tell you something with all my years of experience, is that I do not like being bothered” The King of Curses could sense people coming, and while he normally enjoyed torturing and murdering his enemies, just for this time he would rather be left alone, with you. 

Utilizing the body of the Fushigoro boy, he moved his grasp from your waist and brought them together in a seal, in front of your abdomen - of course, silly, he would not let you go. 

"Nue," his deep voice vibrated against your ear, and a wave of cursed energy flooded the area. You shot up your head, and your jaw dropped. Megumi's bird Shinigami had turned into a colossal predator, at least four times its usual size, and it even developed a tail. With the flap of its wings, thunder and lightning surged, attacking the neighboring area around you and Sukuna. 

The sight of the beast made you snap out of your haste. You had to do something. Although you were powerless against this demon, Megumi was still there. He was being held prisoner in his own body, but he could break free. If you could just reach out to him, "Megumi! I know you are there! You can snap out of it, just like Yuuji! C'mon Megumi!" 

Naively, your eyes sought for eye-contact. Only to see the four red irises of Sukuna, his tattoos shifting along with the grin on his face. 

"Megumi? Really? He may be able to hear you, [Y/N], but I assure you, he's not coming back," Sukuna purred, his grip on you tightening. "Don’t make me jealous now, calling out another man’s name... I’d rather you call out mine." 

Desperation and fear surged through your veins, but you refused to give in to Sukuna's taunts. Summoning every ounce of courage, you had left, you clenched your fists and glared defiantly at him. 

"You're wrong! Megumi is strong, and he won't let you control him forever. I believe in him, and we will find a way to break your hold on him!" You retorted, determination shining in your [e/c] eyes. 

Sukuna's laughter filled the air, echoing around you like sinister bells of doom. "Oh, how amusing! Your faith in him is laughable. But I'll humor you, my dear [Y/N]. Let's see how long you can hold on to that hope before I make you mine entirely." 

As Sukuna's laughter subsided, you felt a surge of raw energy emanating from him. The air crackled with malevolence as Sukuna prepared to unleash his Nue’s full power. But before he could strike, an unexpected presence intervened. 

A figure emerged from the shadows, radiating a powerful aura that seemed to challenge even Sukuna's might. Itadori Yuuji, battered, bruised and with several cuts from the earlier blow, stood tall with a determined glint in his eyes. 

"Leave [Y/N] alone, Sukuna! This is between you and me," Yuuji declared, his voice steady despite the pain. 

Sukuna's lips curled into a sinister grin. "You still think you can stand up to me, boy? I'll enjoy tearing you apart, scum." 

Yuuji's resolve only strengthened. He clenched his fists and channeled every ounce of cursed energy he possessed. "I won't let you hurt [Y/N], and I won't let you get away with what you've done." 

Using another set of Megumi’s shikigamis, Sukuna conjured the monster serpent (now, a full, intimidating horned cobra) and it curled tight around you- rendering you immobile as it drained you of your cursed energy.

The battlefield crackled with tension as Sukuna and Yuuji faced each other, locked in an inevitable clash. Meanwhile, you struggled against the shikigami’s tailed hold, trying to summon every ounce of cursed energy within you to break free. The ground trembled beneath your feet as the battle commenced. 

It soon became clear that Yuuji was no match for Sukuna's overwhelming power. Despite his valiant efforts, Sukuna's strength and cunning proved to be too much to handle. With a single devastating attack, Yuuji was defeated, lying unconscious on the ground. 

“Yuuji!!!” You screamed and tears welled up in your eyes. 

Sukuna stood triumphantly over Yuuji's fallen form, a sinister grin stretching across his face. "Pathetic brat," he sneered, "You were never worthy of her attention. But now, she's all mine." 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you faced the monstrous curse before you. Sukuna's eyes bore into yours with an unsettling mix of possessiveness and desire. He took a step closer, and you could feel his cursed energy suffocating you. 

You clenched your fists, trying to muster the courage to stand up to him. "I'll never be yours, Sukuna," you retorted, your voice wavering and cracking but determined.  

Sukuna's grin widened, reveling in your resistance. "Oh, how delightful. The more you resist, the more enticing you become," he said, circling you like a predator eyeing its prey. With a chask of his fingers, the shikigami which held you vanished, and you fell on Sukuna’s arms. One of his clawed and tattooed hands reached out to grasp you by the chin, forcing you into eye-contact and squeezing your cheeks- bringing your lips forward. 

Your heart raced with fear, and Sukuna's grin only grew wider. His face inched closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. "My love," he whispered, his voice laced with a possessive edge. “I will not let you escape me. You are mine, [Y/N], and I will gladly be yours " he murmured, pulling you closer to him. Anticipating his actions, you focused your remaining strength in struggling against him. Regardless, Sukuna leaned in and succeeded in sealing his lips against yours.  

Ryomen Sukuna kissed you with a passion you would never expect, or experience- a profound hunger and impatience that had been finally sated. A tongue, thick, slimy, and intrusive that relentlessly claimed a pair of lips it had been craving for so long, a desire long fulfilled. 

His onslaught was merciless; he wanted more, but when he looked at your flushed face and shut eyes, and attention to your weakening fists against his chest, he chuckled against your lips and broke the kiss. You gasped for air and breathed frantically, as Sukuna admired the trail of saliva that bridged his lips to yours. 

"You are mine, [Y/N], and there's no escape. I have been waiting for so long; I have been so patient. I think it’s time I deserved my reward." 

His lips peppered and trailed up your neck, climbing across your jaw, past your lips and near your ear. He whispered, hungrily and husky “I’m just so hungry for you.” 

A/n: I’ve literally been trying to write this a LONG time ago, and finally broke through! I hope you like a normal dickhead sukuna that is a hard simp for darling. One more sukuna fic that I’ve been saving to go!

[slttygeto]

THINK I FORGOT, HOW TO BE HAPPY.

⤷ what was I made for? | something i’m made for

જ⁀➴ synopsis: after hanging out with Suguru's friends, you head home and can't wait to bury it down like you always do. But when your boyfriend insists on knowing what upset you, the night takes a turn for the worst.

જ⁀➴ word count: 2,8k

જ⁀➴ content warning: fem!reader, hurt/no comofrt, angst, fights, suguru is a little mean and says mean shit but reader isn’t any better.

જ⁀➴ note: sorry for the long wait, i'm struggling to work on many things at once. but a huge thank you for showing the first part so much love! it was truly unexpected.

��⁺˖ ⤷ tag list: @error404-tryagain @fiannee @anarosextodo @ayeputita (couldn't tag everyone for some reason, my bad!)

⤷ comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Suguru remembers when he first fell in love with you, how his face felt warm when you wrapped your arms around him and told him to have a safe trip, the little bag of goodies you had prepared for him sitting atop of his suitcase. He remembers pulling you into a deep kiss in the middle of a crowded airport, and he wasn’t a huge fan of PDA, has never been—but something about you caring for him, preparing food for his flight and showing up as he was about to board made his heart leap out of his chest.

Your first I love you to each other was shared when you realized you couldn’t handle being away from each other for longer than a day. You move in together shortly after he returns from his travel.

You don’t remember when you started to feel out of place, but it makes its way up and towards the back of your head like a parasite—your emotions were always too much for anyone to handle. You recently had a breakdown over messing up at work, and you’ve never seen Suguru look more lost than when he tried to comfort you. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern, he looks defeated when you refuse to let him touch or hug you. You were a mess, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

When you do calm down and are finally able to breathe properly, your brain flashes you little moments from your breakdown like a flashback—almost as though to shame and embarrass you for the way you behaved, all while your perfect boyfriend looks defeated at your lack of cooperation. You’re not sure if it is true, you hope that it’s not—but you see Suguru sit at the edge of the bed and bury his face in his hands and he curses under his breath. He looks tired.

It’s because of me.

When Suguru notices that your breakdowns become less frequent, he is convinced that you are slowly working towards getting better, praises and showers you with compliments. This is the Suguru you always want to see, full of life and love and not the one you saw that night.

And so you decide that from now on, Suguru wasn’t made to see you at your lowest.

--

Dinner ends an hour later and you almost run out of the restaurant and towards the car. Suguru is quick to join you, and from the corner of your eyes, you see Gojo standing near his car and his eyes are staring into your soul. You were grateful that he didn’t tell your boyfriend about the bathroom incident. You confided in the male at such a vulnerable moment and you would’ve been pretty upset if he went against your wishes.

You’re as quiet as ever as Suguru starts the car and drives away. You’re mindful of the way you sit not to face Suguru, and decide on letting him pick the songs to play on the way back. And your boyfriend doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re avoiding him like the plague, after all this wasn’t the first time you were eerily quiet on the way back home. But you were wrong.

Suguru watches you as you walk inside your shared apartment and remove your shoes. You’re not wearing any specific expression indicating that you might be upset. After all, you did have a habit of frowning as a resting face. But it feels different as you quietly greet your cat with a head pat, choosing to head to the kitchen first since you knew Suguru would go to the bathroom for a quick shower.

You were avoiding him.

“Did I do something?” Your boyfriend watches as you halt your movements, the glass of water in your hand long forgotten as you stare at him wide eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Huh?”

“You’re avoiding me, did something happen?” Suguru tries to remember the night you spent outside. He has no clear memory of saying or doing something that you might’ve tipped you over the edge, so what was wrong? You were never this quiet.

“I’m fine, Sugu. You didn’t do anything.” The smile you flash him does anything but reassure him. You ignore the frown that sits on his face and you turn around, your back facing him as you try to busy yourself with something—anything, but facing the man you called your boyfriend.

“Then why are you acting so distant?” So he was able to pick up on it. You hoped that he wouldn’t be able to, maybe breaking up with him would be much easier that way. You are quiet as ever as you turn around and walk toward the fridge.

You were distant because Suguru wasn’t supposed to see you like this, he wasn’t supposed to know how much of an insecure mess you were when he was around, how you were desperately trying to get him to fall out of love. You can barely say I love you to him without feeling guilty about it. Did you truly deserve his love? It felt like he was wasting his time on someone as miserable as you.

“I am not distant, just tired.�� It wasn’t entirely a lie, you were tired. You wanted to sleep so badly, wanted to drown the lingering thoughts of never feeling enough as Suguru’s girlfriend, but feeling whole and complete when you are yourself outside of your relationship. This was a you problem, and dragging Suguru down with you felt a little unfair.

“You were crying in the restaurant.” Your heart stills at this. “But you lied and said you were fine.”

“Did Satoru—“

“Satoru doesn’t know you better than I do.” His tone is sharp, and you’re taken aback by the harsh way he chooses to address you. Was this about to escalate into something else? You didn’t want it to, you didn’t have the energy to fight back and tell him to choose his tone carefully. You might’ve been the easy-going, kind girlfriend—but you weren’t going to tolerate disrespect from his part.

“You’re right, he doesn’t.” You sound almost defeated, and you put your glass in the sink before wiping your hands on the towel. Suguru stands near the kitchen island, and watches you with cat-like eyes. You were barely looking his way, the dark circles under your eyes prominent despite your effort at covering them up with make-up. When did Suguru start paying less attention to you? Or did you simply never allow him to see you like this, vulnerable and exhausted. His heart aches in his chest.

“So you won’t tell me?” You’re about to walk away when he decides to speak, and you heave out a long sigh when you realize that the night was taking a turn for the worst.

“Tell you what?” You mumble under your breath, and you refuse to meet Suguru’s cold eyes. You can feel them on your skin, they’re intense and trying to read you like a book. Perhaps if you don’t look his way, his stare would feel less intimidating.

“Would you please just stop?” Suguru rests his elbows on his the surface of the kitchen island, burying his face in his hands. “I’m really trying to figure out what’s wrong, and you’re not helping.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to tell you what’s wrong.” Your response comes out almost immediately, and the frustration you’ve been suppressing all night suddenly resurfaces. Months of trying to play it cool, sweeping your insecurities under the rug and hoping that a kiss from Suguru would fix all of your problems, it was all piling up into this huge bubble. And the more persistent your boyfriend was, the harder it was to stay quiet.

“What do you mean you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?” Suguru’s voice is a little bit louder, and he’s almost in disbelief at your words. You were dating, you slept on the same bed, ate on the same table and cuddled on the same couch. You weren’t a girl he started dating last month, or a person he was testing out the waters with—you weren’t even a potential lifetime partner, but he was almost certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

“Because it’s useless to whine to you about shit you don’t need to know. My problems are mine, you don’t have to fix me.” You feel yourself shake a little the more you speak, your heart is beating fast at the realization that this was a conflict—you were creating a conflict and it felt suffocating.

“Fix you—who said I have to fix you?”

“Right, no one did—Suguru, just drop it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But I do.” His tone is sharp, and his hands are curled up in fists. His eyes are staring you down the same way he looks at strangers—threatening, cold and mean. You find yourself tearing up and it makes you feel stupid. You started this, you’re the one who doesn’t feel enough in the relationship—you’re the one being mean, and yet a single look from Suguru has you almost bursting into tears? Pathetic. You felt pathetic and weak, and the longer your boyfriend stared at you, the harder it was to maintain a normal breathing pattern.

“Suguru, I don’t want to talk about it.” You try again, and you hope that your voice doesn’t betray and breaks. Tonight has been exhausting enough, and the thought of having to speak up what has been on your mind for months now makes your chest feel incredibly tight.

“You’re being selfish.”

Selfish? You were being selfish?

You stare at Suguru in disbelief and he immediately realizes how badly he must’ve fucked up because the tears start falling down your cheeks almost instantly. You, who has been pushing her feelings to the side for the sake of his happiness, were selfish? You, who can’t even remember the last time you were truly happy about something, were selfish? This is bullshit.

“I’m selfish?” Your chin quivers pathetically, and Suguru is quick to reach a hand towards you to hold you, but you flinch away from his hold, arms wrapped you to give yourself the comfort Suguru wanted to give you.

“I am selfish, me?!” Your voice is getting louder, but you didn’t care. All the frustration, all the sadness and insecurities were all coming up to the surface because of one single comment.

“Baby, I didn’t—“

“Don’t call me that, don’t you fucking dare touch me!” You move away when he attempts to hold you. “I’m selfish because I don’t wanna tell my perfect boyfriend with his perfect personality about my shitty problems. That’s just fucking great, isn’t it?”

The last time Suguru saw you like this was months ago and he doesn’t even realize it until now. All those times where you would brush off something that would normally set you off, give him a tight lipped smile and tell him not to worry.

“Your problems aren’t shitty, you don’t even want to talk about them!”

“Because every time I tried, it felt like I was robbing you of your fucking happiness, Suguru!” Your voice is loud. “Every time I realized that my mood was ruined, I could only think of how you must be fed up with me.”

“But I’m not? I never even said that I was fed up!” Suguru’s body language completely changes, and suddenly he’s not even trying to comfort you. More so understand where all of this was coming from.

“Your face says it all and fuck--” You groan into your face, your cheeks flushed from frustration.

“Oh so now it’s my face?” You raise your head to stare at him. “One moment you’re saying it’s how I behave, but now it’s all in my face?”

“You’re missing the whole point, Suguru—“

“No, I’m not missing anything! You are the one who created this situation, you’re the one who decided to pull away!” Each word feels like a knife being stabbed into your heart. You stare at the man who usually gives you warm, sweet smiles and all of that is replaced with a cold angry look.

“Suguru—“

“Selfish. Yeah, actually I don’t take it back. You are selfish,”

“Stop.” your lips quivers.

“Because if you actually wanted this to work out, you would tell me what’s wrong instead of finding excuses.”

“You’re being mean, Sugu.”  

Your boyfriend groans out of frustration and leans against the kitchen counter. You stand still next to the fridge, tears streaming down your face. You try to stop and wipe them away, but it feels as though you really needed this more than anything.

“I want to take a break.” You say quietly and Suguru’s head snaps up almost immediately.

“What?”

“I want to take a break from this—from you, I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

Instead of giving you a proper reply, Suguru storms out of the kitchen and grabs his jacket and car keys and is out of the house in less than a minute. You are frozen in your spot as you let the words you just uttered out loud sink in, and there’s a sense of guilt. You are pulling away from your relationship, you’re willingly taking a break and not looking back, but does it matter anymore?

This was by far your biggest fight with your boyfriend, and the way he stormed out at the mention of taking a break makes you want to crawl in a hole and die. But not anymore.

You can’t even remember the last time you were happy, and for it to go on for so long was so draining and tiring. You could barely recognize yourself anymore. Your feet take you towards your shared bedroom with Suguru and you start packing some of your stuff. Whether he agrees to the break or not is not important, because you were doing this for yourself. And if Suguru truly cared about you, he would let you do what is best for you.

--

Suguru didn’t know where he was going, he just wanted to get away from you and as soon as possible. The roads are empty, and he isn’t driving recklessly. In fact, he’s probably driving so slowly that it would look suspicious to anyone on the outside.

He parks the car on the side of the road and rests his forehead on the steering wheel. When did it turn into this? When did he become so absorbed in his personal life that he stopped including you or care for you? Suguru doesn’t want to blame himself, but it’s a little difficult. He thought he was living this picture perfect life with you, under one roof with a single pet and future plans ahead of you. But to fuck up this badly and call you selfish simply because you were struggling on your own was horrible.

And to make things worse, he stormed out of the house and left you there all alone. He groans into his hands.

“Fuck.” He wants to fix this. He doesn’t want a break, he doesn’t think that it’s necessary. But you looked serious about it, maybe he could talk you out of it.

He grabs his phone and dials your number, and when it takes a while for you to pick up he just knows that you must’ve been contemplating whether or not you wanted to take the call. Eventually, you do answer.

“I’m sorry,” the line on your side is quiet, so he continues. “I fucked up, I don’t think I should’ve said what I said and—“

“It’s not your fault.” Your nose is stuffed, but Suguru can tell from the tone of your voice that you were tired. “But I need some space, Suguru.”

Some space… So you were considering the break.

“We can work it out, we don’t have to take a break or anything, we can go on a date tomorrow morning and—“

“I called a cab, I’m going back to my place.” You cut him off, and Suguru hears you lock the door to his apartment. “I’m doing this for myself and for us,” Suguru closes his eyes when he realizes that there was truly no hope in talking you out of it.

“Okay… can I still text you?”

“No,” you reply quietly. “I don’t wanna think about you for a while.” He tries not to feel hurt but it’s difficult.

“I understand.” The line goes quiet for a while, and Suguru hears a few sniffles from your side and sighs.

“We’ll be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You wipe a few tears. “I have to go now.”

“I love you.” Suguru waits for a response, and when you take too long to answer, his chest tightens a little.

“Take care, Sugu.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Only His

Feyd-Rautha x Concubine!reader

Summary: A diplomat from Caladan wants to borrow you for the night. Feyd doesn't take that very well. Requested by @midnight-serendipity

Words: 2700

Notes: cursing, mentions of smut (a little), gore, blood, death, typos.

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Feyd breathed Hatred. 

He bled Hatred. 

When he killed, Hatred controlled his movements. Like a parasite in the brain, Hatred determined the thrust of his blade, how deep it sunk into an enemy’s gut, and the degree to which he twisted the weapon before pulling it from a soon-to-be lifeless body. 

He’d cultivated a bond with Hatred. There was a mutual understanding of one another, he thought. But as Feyd listens to the proposition from the man sitting his opposite, Hatred slowly becomes a stranger.

Turns out Hatred has a claiming side, a how-dare-you-look-at-what’s-mine side, and from that, Feyd realizes he never knew Hatred, not truly. Because this feeling—whatever it is—has revealed that Hatred is more potent than he initially believed.

“You want to what?” Feyd grits out through clenched teeth. 

“There’s no need to get upset,” the man chuckles; a diplomat from Caladan sent on behalf of Duke Atreides who came to Giedi Prime to reinforce treaties and trade agreements with the Baron. Others were sent from their respective planets, but he is by far much bolder than the rest when it comes to stepping out of bounds.

“I'd give you something in return,” Nolas—that’s his name. Feyd could barely care to remember—continues. “Whatever you like. I just want her for the night. Something to make the long trip here worthwhile and the trip back more bearable.”

“You think my concubine can be bought?”

“All concubines can be bought,” he says. “At the very least, borrowed.”

If so, then you are a concubine of untraditional nature. You are not shareable. You cannot be divvied up amongst the group so each may enjoy their slice; not as long as Feyd lives. And should he not live, for reasons foreseen or not, he long ago requested that your life be ended as well. That way you could be together. That way no man could ever have you. 

The thought of another’s hands on you sets fire to Feyd’s veins, threatening to burn his pale skin from the inside out. His heavy brow dips forward to darken the light hue of his irises. He stands and crosses the bridge between his seat and the one occupied by the older, pudgy man, looming over him to the point that Nolas must tilt his head back so their eyes can meet. 

“I will not be giving you mine,” Feyd growls. “Not for anything you could offer.”

Nolas huffs. “Now be reasonab–” 

Feyd fists his fingers into the collar of Nolas’s jacket, twisting tightly and yanking upward until Nolas chokes from the constricting fabric pressing into his windpipe. 

“Let me be perfectly clear,” Feyd spits, leaning forward. He opens his mouth to continue, but just as his next words are ready to leap from his tongue, something odd takes root in Nolas’s vile eyes. Odd, because it is not fear.

The bulk of Feyd’s skills lies in his ability to incite fear, whether through words, or battle, or presence, and with the exception of his uncle, fear has successfully struck the core of any soul who has crossed his path. Civilians, servants, his brother, his mother, even you have not been spared, but the man in his grasp is not cowering. He is not trembling. He is not soaking in the vulnerability of the position he is in where Feyd could snap his neck in a half-second. Instead, he holds the spearing gaze of the youngest Harkonnen. Matches it, even.

Feyd sinks his teeth into his boiling rage and forces it to overpower the shock that has slipped in. “You will not get within fifty feet of her. You talk to her, you surrender your tongue. You touch her, you lose a finger. You look at her, I’ll take an eye and it can sit alongside the rest of my trophies.”

A smirk touches Nolas’s face, practically undetectable before it is gone, and suddenly Feyd feels it. That loss of control. He feels Nolas penetrate his skull and weave spindly tendrils through his brain, poking and prodding for Feyd’s secrets. And then there’s a moment; a moment when Feyd nearly stumbles—the moment Nolas latches on to the one thing Feyd can not afford to have known by anyone other than himself. 

The smirk returns. “Of course, na-Baron,” oozes off of Nolas’s slimy tongue. “I wouldn’t dare lay a hand on the woman you love.”

With another half-twist, the collar tightens, blocking the blood from leaving Nolas’s face. He’s cherry red—or at least what Feyd imagines is cherry red based on your description—and he thinks with a few more turns of his fist, he could get Nolas’s head to pop right off his shoulders and tumble onto the floor. 

“What are you doing!” Rabban snaps, stomping toward the duo. He rams his hand against Feyd’s chest, but despite being forced back a step, he does not release the diplomat. He does not blink, fingers transmuting to steel as Rabban works to pry them open. “Uncle wants him alive for tonight!”

Feyd doesn’t care about tonight. He doesn’t care for some party announcing his uncle’s plans for the future. He does not care that this man, this worm, is considered a vital messenger. Send a fucking letter. 

Rabban whips out a small blade and slashes downward, nicking Feyd’s knuckles. It stings but livens the rush of his blood. His heart pounds harder, teeth gritting and cracking. 

“Feyd!”

Nolas’s eyes begin to redden, threadlike veins almost glowing. No air exits his nostrils and just as he finally wraps his hands around Feyd’s wrist, yanking and jerking to free himself, the tension in the fabric snaps. 

Nolas gasps for air, falling forward and revealing the clean slice down the back of his jacket collar. Feyd’s head turns to Rabban’s disgusted glare. 

His brother sheathes his knife. “You’d defy our uncle’s orders?”

Feyd glances back at Nolas, who has yet to recover, before spinning on his heel and leaving.

—

“Are you embarrassed of me?” you ask, your attention focused on the precise wrapping of bandage tape around Feyd’s knuckles as you sit beside him on the bed. “Is that why you don’t want me to go tonight?”

“Yes,” Feyd grumbles. No, his mind snaps back at him, and he huffs. 

Your arrival on Giedi Prime birthed a conscience within him—a conscience that exists solely for your sake—and because he often fucks up when it comes to you and your feelings, it never shuts up. You’re hurting her. Look at her. Do you not see that devastation? He does, and little pinpricks nip at the organ in his chest. 

You lightly nod as you mutter a pathetic, “Oh.”

With a hefty sigh, Feyd says, “It’s for your protection.” There! Better!

Fingers pause their work and your head shoots up to meet his eyes, a small smile curving your lips. 

“Oh,” you repeat. There’s a hint of excitement in your tone, a glint in your bright irises that causes Feyd’s cheeks to warm. 

You rip the used tape from the rest of the roll and set it aside, and then that smile disappears. “Wait, protection from what?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re safe if you’re not there tonight.”

You hum, and from that hum alone, Feyd knows exactly what’s running through your mind. 

“And my safety is very important to you, is it?” you ask, lifting the skirts of your dress so it doesn’t catch under your knees as you move to straddle his hips. 

Feyd rolls his eyes. His hands settle on your waist. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he mildly scolds. 

You lean into his body until he falls back onto the mattress, your chest pressed to his chest, your face hovering above his. 

“I don’t know,” you tease as your fingertip skims over his bottom lip. “I’m starting to think you might like me more than you let on.”

“Think what you want,” he says, turning his head to the side and severing the taut band connecting your gazes. 

You chuckle and grip his chin, demanding he look at you again. “Fine, I will,” you whisper before inching your lips closer until they ghost over his. “I think you like me.”

You give him another feather-dusting of a kiss but it’s not enough. Never enough. Feyd growls, burying his hand into the strands of your hair to hold your head still so he can claim your lips in the devouring manner he desires. 

When you moan, he wraps his arm snuggly around your waist. When you suck on his tongue, his cock flinches in his pants and he involuntarily thrusts upward between your spread legs. 

Your responsive yelp is a drug. Addicting. So different from the yelps he expected to receive from you after he’d chosen you as his concubine. He’d gone into the situation wanting any noise your delicate throat could make to be a product of the pain he intended to inflict upon you, but when he’d taken you that first night, that yelp was of pleasure. He’d hit a particularly sweet spot inside of you and was instantly overcome with a desperate need to hear it again and again and again. 

You pull your lips apart from his. Your gentle pants fan his face. He brushes your loose locks behind your ear. 

“Promise me you’ll stay in the room,” he says. 

“I promise.”

—

He’s gone. Feyd took his eyes off the bastard for one second, and now he’s gone. It’s not as if Nolas will be capable of finding you—he’s not familiar with the fortress’s layout enough to know which room you’re in and you swore you wouldn’t so much as peek through a crack in the door—but still, a sense of dread stiffens Feyd’s limbs. Nolas has no reason to be outside of this room. He has no reason to be doing anything but drinking his fill and mingling with the others of his station. And yet…

“Did you hear me, brother?” Rabban’s voice intrudes upon Feyd’s third scan of the room. He’s not here. He’s not fucking here. 

“Brother–”

“No,” Feyd snaps before descending the short staircase. 

He snakes through the crowd toward the main doors of the vast room. They’re wide, tall, loud when opened and closed, and it’s impossible Nolas could’ve snuck out without Feyd’s notice. 

“Where’s the Caladanian?” Feyd demands of the guards posted on either side of the door. 

“No one has attempted to leave, my Lord,” one says. 

Feyd’s brow pinches. The only remaining exit is a side door specifically designed to blend with the wall. The fortress is speckled with similar doors, all of which connect to an inner walkway that servants and guards use to get around the massive structure quickly when needed. 

“Come with me,” Feyd instructs, receiving a curt nod in return. 

Feyd’s body traces the wall until he reaches the door. He pushes it open and slips inside, the guard on his heels. The noise of the room fades with every step down the corridor and at each new unexpected sound, his head cocks, his ear reaching for the source. 

Then he hears it. 

“Your na-Baron offered you to me,” travels through the wall separating him from the paralleling hallway.

And then your sweet voice. “Offered? N-No, Feyd wouldn’t.”

You’re right there, right on the other side of the thin barrier, but he can’t reach you. You’re trying to remain calm but you’re scared, Feyd knows it, and as he starts to rush to the next closest door, he begs that you keep the bastard at bay just a little longer. 

Once he shoves through the door into the hall, your voice comes in much clearer, but all sight of you is blocked by Nolas’s breadth and height. 

“He wouldn’t give me away,” you say. 

Nolas chuckles. “He hasn’t, sweetheart. I’m simply borrowing you for a little.”

“That’s not—hey, don’t touch me!”

Feyd bursts into the embodiment of fury. Everything goes red. He feels red; he sees red; he tastes and smells and hears red. His vision pulses to his heartbeat’s rhythm. He craves the death of his enemy. To have blood coat his tastebuds. To absorb the scent of freshly drawn iron. 

Feyd’s ears pound with pressure and he worries it will muffle the beautiful screams of his victim, but to his great pleasure, as his blade is stuffed into a meaty back, the screams come in loud and clear in perfectly pitched notes that echo down the hall.

The body collapses, knees slamming into stone flooring.

“Feyd,” you whimper. 

“I told you to stay in our room,” he says lowly, not sparing you a glance as his knife momentarily leaves the body to reenter at the spot where neck meets shoulder. Blood sputters from lips, adorning your dress with a sprinkling of rubies.

“One of the servants said you needed me and I–”

“Take her back,” Feyd orders his guard. “Now.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Feyd!” you cry, tripping over your skirt as you struggle to keep pace with the guard dragging you around the corner. 

It’s better this way. If you’re gone, he can give his undivided attention to the paling body and the scarlet puddle spreading beneath it. 

“You don’t listen,” Feyd says, coming to the front of his victim who is impressively still sitting upright. 

There’s a whimper, another lovely song before Feyd pries open the mouth, digs between a row of teeth, and pinches the tongue with two fingers. He pulls it as far as it can be pulled and then lops it clean off with his knife. It lands on the floor with a wet slap. The fingers follow—all ten—amputated from now lifeless hands. And then the eyes, plucked free from the skull with ease. One of them rolls a fair distance after being tossed aside. The other he keeps.

Feyd steps back to stare upon death at its purest; a flawless display of cause and effect, of crime and punishment. 

“I told you what would happen,” he says. 

He doesn’t get a response. 

—

It’s late when Feyd returns to you. He spent the last few hours explaining his role in the ending of a diplomat’s life. He was careful with his words. He had to be. If his uncle knew he killed in defense of his concubine, it would introduce a plethora of complications. No one can know just how far he would go for his woman lest he put you further at risk and open himself up to manipulation. And he can’t have that. 

Feyd expels a relieved sigh at finding you tucked under the sheets. You’re on your side, a palm between your cheek and the pillow. 

He moves to take a seat on the edge of the mattress. As he runs his hand over your hair, your eyes open. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, and you nod. 

“A servant came to the room, said you needed me,” you tell him. “I was led to that man instead of you. I wasn’t trying to go against what you asked of me.”

“I know,” Feyd says. “The servant was paid. Someone witnessed the exchange.” He watches a flash of shock and pain travel across your irises. “He’s dead now. They both are.”

You swallow, biting into your lip as your eyes and mind briefly drift elsewhere. Feyd waits for you to come back, and once you do, you look up at him and nod in acceptance. 

“Will you come to bed now?” you ask. “Please? I can't sleep without you.”

“You were asleep when I came in.” Your head shakes. 

In all fairness, you haven't spent a single night apart since he got you, and he doesn’t view it as clinginess—it’s more his decision than yours—but rather an expression of how much you want him near. And he likes being wanted. It’s different. Foreign. Nice. The both of you need it. Tonight, perhaps, more than ever.

Feyd stands and peels off his layers of clothes, then goes to the other side of the bed to slide under the covers. You flip over, nestling yourself against him and resting your head on his bicep.

“I thought you didn't want me anymore,” you whisper. “I thought–”

---

“Don't think,” he says. “You're mine; you know that.” He presses a kiss to your hairline. “I don't share you.”

And may fate have mercy on anyone who suggests otherwise.

Tag List (if you wanna join)

[aerynwrites]

Lost For Words

Gale Dekarios x gn!Reader

A/N: for the anon that sent in this request - I hope you and everyone else enjoys! I had such a fun time writing this haha.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: sexual content (not explicit), grinding, reader is a tease, gale is a flustered mess, suggestive talk, kissing, fluff at the beginning.

*I tried to keep this gender neutral, but please let me know if anything slipped through my editing!*

It’s not often you get any downtime, what with the parasite in your brain and all. 

But this evening has afforded you and your companions a rare but much needed free night. Most everyone has decided to spend the evening down in the tavern, drinking or gambling or whatever other pastimes happen down there. However, you and Gale have opted to stay upstairs, reveling in the unusual peace and quiet. 

Gale had been reading to you for a while, a fantasy book of some sort, but you’d excused yourself a few moments ago. Not because you were enjoying lounging in bed with him, but because a certain item in your bag has been calling to you since you received it. 

The Wavemother’s Robe. 

It has been a gift for getting ride of that machine that was polluting the bay waters, and you hadn’t really had a chance to look at it. 

But now, after you’ve retrieved it and stepped behind the dressing screen, you find that there isn’t really much to look at, at all. 

As you slip into the delicate yet butter-soft fabric, you can’t help but notice that it leaves very little to the imagination. So, in that sense, there is a lot to look at depending on who’s doing the looking. 

The neckline of the detailed collar of robe plummets down in a tragically deep neckline, the end reaching your navel. And the skirt of the robe is much the same, the slits in the sides coming up all the way to above your hip, leaving the fabric covering yourself hanging dangerously loose in the front and back. 

For half a second, you're tempted to rip the thing off and get rid of it. The whole outfit is somewhat absurd. 

But, despite your question about the functionality of such a garment, you can’t help but admire the beauty of it. The blue, scaled fabric sparkles in the dim candle light of the room, iridescent light bouncing off the walls whenever you turn. Even the small delicate chains at your hips and resting against your sternum twinkle gently. 

When you look in the floor-length mirror you can’t help but let your mouth drop open slightly. 

You look…good. If not a bit exposed. 

Without thinking much about it, you turn and come out from behind the screen, approaching Gale where he still sits on the bed reading. If he hears your approach he doesn’t acknowledge it, only flipping a page every so often as you watch him in silence, a small smile on your face. 

He’s sat propped up against the headboard, legs outstretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He cradles the book gentle in his hands atop his lap, eyes trailing over the page quickly as he consumes the story. 

You take a couple steps closer to the bed, now just an arms length away. 

He still doesn’t look up. 

“Gale…” you call in a soft sing-song voice. 

The wizard merely hums, inclining his head your way ever so slightly, but never takes his eyes from the page. 

“Yes, my love?” 

You huff, rolling your eyes as your smile tugs further at your lips. 

“I wanted your thoughts on my new clothes.” 

You watch as his brows furrow, his thumb sliding down the page to hold his place as he closes the book before slowly turning to look at you. 

“Your clothes-?”

His questioning is cut off with the audible clack of his teeth as his mouth slams shut, his eyes going wide as they finally take you in, trailing from your head to your toes before whipping back up again. 

He blushes. Actually blushes - his cheeks turning several shades darker as his eyes flit over your form once more before he’s back to looking at you all wide-eyed and scandalized. 

A shit eating grin overtakes your earlier soft smile as you take the last few steps to the edge of the bed, reaching out to pluck the book from his hands to toss it to the side. 

“So…what do you think?” you ask, voice dripping sweetness. 

“W-what do I-? I - ehm…it’s certainly - revealing-“

You drop your lips into a pout as you crawl onto the bed, your nose barely brushing his own as you swing a leg over his hips to settle on his lap. The robe pools between you, but the position causes the silken fabric to rise up your hips even further. One wrong move and even less would be left to the imagination. 

Something Gale must take notice of, as he instinctively reaches out to tug at the fabric on your hips, keeping it in place as his fingers dig into the flesh beneath it. 

“Do you not like it?” you ask, feigning disappointment as you reach down to toy with the chain running down your chest. “I thought it was pretty.” 

Gale clears his throat and shifts his hips, the evidence of just how much he likes it evident against your inner thigh. 

“N-No not at all I -“ He coughs, the blush reaching down to his chest now, making his orb mark stand out against the flushed skin. “I simply was not expecting…”

His words taper off as you begin to trail a finger over the mark on his chest, following the tendrils up over his collarbone and onto the sensitive skin of his neck, making his breath hitch. 

“Not expecting…what?” 

“Well - I was deeply entrenched in m-my reading and then you come out like t - that!” 

His last word pitches up when you grind your hips against his own, his fingers now digging into your hip bones. 

You lean in close, lips brushing his cheek as you speak. 

“Thats a very…lackluster description,” you pout. “Have I left the great Gale of Waterdeep lost for words? What happened to your supposed verbosity? And I remember something about a practiced tongue -“ 

Your teasing words are cut off sharply as Gale's arms wrap around your waist and he flips you both over on the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a soft this just as his lips claim yours, swallowing your gasp of surprise. 

He wastes no time, his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. 

Something you happily grant him. 

The kiss is eager, frenzied, leaving no room for the teasing banter you had established earlier.

His hands move to slide down over your bare thighs before hiking one of them up over his hip and holding it there as he presses his hips down into your own. 

Only when his hips meet your own in a desperate grind does he pull away from you, lips moving instead to trail kisses down your cheek and jaw. 

“If you had given me a moment to collect myself,” he chastises lightly. “I would have gathered my wits enough to tell you how magnificent you look.” 

“Ravishing.” He presses a kiss beneath your ear. “Captivating.” Another on the junction of your shoulder. 

“Absolutely sinful.” 

A sharp nip to your collarbone has you gasping, just as a calloused hand slides up the exposed expanse of your chest, fingers hooking beneath the delicate chains there. 

“So…” He trails off, his lips traveling down to where his hand lays and then lower, pressing lightly to where the deep plunge of your robe ends. 

“Since you were so impatient, I suppose I’ll just have to show you as well. To make up for my lack of…verbosity.” 

A moan slips past your lips at his words, and you can't stop the shiver of excitement that runs through as his hands slip beneath the fabric of the robe. 

Maybe you’ll keep the robe after all. 

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Can you write about toxic policule of andrew x reader x ashley. Reader is Ashley childhood friend, who genuinely befriended her not trying to get to Andrew. The type that will try to throw them food during quarantine.

The polycule is in shambles ❤️

Andrew and Ashley x ChildhoodFriend!Reader

Befriending Ashley Graves was no easy task

She made you work for it to say the least

Giving you her homework to do because a good friend wouldn’t let their friend fail.

Some girl was saying stuff about her, so a good friend would go punch her square in her ugly face!

A good friend wouldn’t stare at other people, or make other plans

Ashley was exhausting, yes- and a lot of the time you wonder why you’re even her friend.

You catch yourself wondering that sometimes too…

“Yeah! Fuck off to your whore mothers!”

Your vision was still hazy- only being able to crack it open ever so slightly as to not mess with your black eye. You flinched as a small hand placed itself on her bruised cheek.

“Hold still!” The shrill voice snapped, “Lemme get a look at cha..”

LeyLey hummed, her lips pursing as she inspected your beaten up face. She retracted her hand and reached into the pocket of her overalls, and pulled out a crumbled up bandaid still in the package. She fumbled with the wrapper and placed the bandaid overtop the cut on your chin. It did nothing, but she smiled proudly.

“There! Now if those assholes do that again, just let me know! I’ll make Andy join me!” She grinned. You couldn’t help but smile back.

No one ever stood up for you as a child, and Ashley always made the bullies go away.

Albeit, out of fear- but fear was better than anything

So you stayed by Ashley’s side, because without her….you’d just be a target again. She told you herself.

Being so close with Ashley only mean being close with her brother as well

To an extent

Ashley pitched fits whenever you two hung out without her, claiming you were scheming against her to leave her.

Neither of you would do that

There was a silent agreement between you and Andrew to shower Ashley with as much affection as you both could when you three were together

This is probably how you became so used to their closeness

You and Andrew somehow managed to find common interests outside of Ashley, something she made fun of you two for on a regular basis

You don’t know how, and you don’t know why, but you slowly fell for both of them

It just hit you like a bag of rocks

To say you were subtle would be a blatant lie, so it didn’t take long for the siblings to catch on.

And make note to tease you about it…

“Here, let me help you with that Y/N..”

Sirens went off in your head as Andrew pressed himself against your back, trapping you between him and the counter. He reached over you, grabbing the bowl you had been reaching for. The few seconds he did that felt like an eternity, and you feared your face boiling from the heat that had risen to it. Your brain buffered, not registering that he had left to sit with Ashley on the couch.

Mr and Mrs Graves were out, and normally this led to a movie night the pair would invite you along. It was just a movie, you told yourself, you could handle it.

Oh you could not have been more wrong.

The pair felt far more….touchy than usual- and it was slowly killing you. As you sat, sandwiched between the pair, Ashley clung tightly to your arm. Her nails dug into your skin possessively as she rested her chin on your shoulder. Andrew had his arm over the both of you, claiming to just be resting it. He was also awfully close.

You slowly blocked the movie, and any other sounds out, the only thing being audible to you was the rapid beating of your heart.

You could’ve sworn you died for a second when both of them placed a hand on your thigh.

Both of them had a bet to see how long it would take you to tell them

Neither had anticipated it would be over the phone…

The quarantine hit and you weren’t allowed to see them

The entire thing made you anxious

Parasites in the water supply…

As dramatic as it was, you were worried you wouldn’t see them again

So you called them, confessed everything

And like any good siblings would….they decided to share you <3

They took turns staring down at you fondly from the balcony when you came by to throw them food

They called you late into the night to pester you, Andrew especially when he couldn’t sleep

Eventually security became so tight you couldn’t even go near the apartment without risk of being shot.

And the calls had stopped

You were worried they were mad at you…that they hated you…

Until they showed up on your doorstep one night….

[bimbo-baggins17]

Coming Home: Leon Kennedy

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

CW: MDNI!! noncon, bootworship, implications of stalking, possible minor re4 spoilers?, mentions of blood, cum, afab anatomy, no use of protection, lmk if I forget anything else. You are responsible for your own media consumption

AN: Eeee my first time writing on here for a character that isn’t played by Hayden Christensen!! Not proofread! Likes, reblogs, and follows are always appreciated! Hope you enjoy! <3

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The gravel crunches under Leon’s heavy boots as he makes his way up your driveway, mumbling under his breath. The last mission had too many close calls. Way too many. He couldn’t shake the feeling of almost dying multiple times.

That’s why he’s here, trudging up your front steps and digging his lock picking tool out of his pocket, still muttering to himself. Originally his plan was to keep an eye on you from a distance until he saw the most perfect opportunity to reveal himself. But again, being so close to death, having that parasite forced inside of him, his only thought was you. He knew what he had to do when he got home.

The lock clicks and he pushes the door open, stepping inside and breathing in the familiar scent. Your scent.

Usually Leon steps through your place slowly, admiring each little trinket you owned, every picture you had on the walls but this was not the case. He stomps through like he lives there, he knew the layout well. He welcomes himself to your fridge, taking a beer off the shelf and heading to your living room where he plops down on your recliner. Letting out a long sigh, he pops the tab, really he prefer bottled beer but beggars can’t be choosers. Maybe he could convince you to get his favorite next time.

You’re just getting home, exhausted from work and planning on taking a nice hot bath to help unwind. You slip your shoes off at the door before setting your bag and keys down on your counter. But then you hear it, the faint hum of voices from your tv. Surely you turned it off before you left this morning, right?

You make your way into your living room and come to abrupt halt seeing a man sitting in your recliner. Your heartbeat instantly picks up, hammering like a rabbit’s in your chest. “Uh..”

“It’s about time you’re home.” He huffs, polishing off the last bit of his beer.

“What are you doing in my house?”

Leon sighs, “God, I missed seeing your pretty face.” He responds completely ignoring the question, looking up at you again, the tv casting a glow on your face that made you seem even more ethereal to him.

That only serves to confuse you further. You didn’t know him. “Who are you??”

He just shakes his head, his eyes tracing over every inch of you once more. Oh how he’d missed you, and loved being able to see every inch of you up close in person. Not just from a distance or through a screen. “It doesn’t matter,” he stands up and your eyes follow him. He practically towers over you where you stand.

Your body starts to tremble slightly from his intimidating presence. “You need to leave.” You attempt to keep your voice from wavering with fear.

Leon tuts and shakes his head, “Now why would I do that, sweetheart? I just got here.” He reaches out and caresses your cheek gently with the backs of his fingers.

Immediately you bat his hand away which earns a growl of frustration from him. He pulls his hand back, clenching it into a fist, “That wasn’t very nice.” He mutters.

You scoff in disbelief, “I don’t care, you’re in my home. I’m calling the police.”

His eyes narrow as he watches you reach for your phone. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He warns.

Ignoring his warning, you pull it out, shaky hands trying to pull up the emergency call button.

Easily he closes the small distance between you both and yanks the device from your hand, slipping it into his pocket. “Nope none of that. Can’t have the police ruining our fun before it starts.”

You swallow thickly past the lump forming in your throat as you stare at him. In a split decision, you take off towards the front door. Leon isn’t surprised, rather annoyed. He lets out a long sigh, “I can’t just get one moment of peace.” He grumbles before taking off after you.

His boots thunder against the floor behind you, quickly gaining on you. The door is locked and you know you wouldn’t be able to undo it in time before he caught you so you quickly turn to your kitchen. Maybe you could grab something to defend yourself with and buy some more time.

You scramble to pick up a knife out of the knife block on your kitchen island. Easily there’s about 5 feet between you now. Leon sees you with the knife held out to him from across the granite top and he chuckles.

“What? You think you’re gonna stick me with that?” He clicks his tongue, “You can do much better than that silly little thing.” To prove a point he reaches down to the knife holster on his leg and pulls out his hunting knife, flipping it into the air and catching it to prove a point. “Here. I’ll even give it to ya.” He mocks, sliding it across the countertop to you.

What was going on? Shakily you reach for it and hold it, the weight feeling foreign to you.

“There ya go. Much better, yeah?” He slowly starts to step around the counter. Each step he takes towards you, you take one back, making him circle you.

“Stay back.” You warn, the blade still pointed in his direction despite your shaky limbs.

He laughs again, “You know, you’re cute when you threaten me but I’m honestly growing tired of this rather quickly. I just got back from an exhausting mission, so why don’t you do me a favor and just cut the tough girl act, mkay? Put the knife down and just come here.”

“You’re insane!”

He tuts and shakes his head once again at you, giving you a mock pout, “Insulting me? That’s not very nice.” He then lunges towards you but you quickly (and stupidly) throw the knife at him instead of stabbing. It thankfully connects but just barely, nicking his cheek by his eye. “Ow, you little bitch.” He seethes, hand reaching up to dab at the blood already coming out.

You see your opening and go for it, taking off towards the door again in a full sprint. This only makes him more upset.

You reach the door and as your going for the lock he catches up to you, one hand gripping into your hair and shoving your head to hit against it, “I risked my life and this is the thanks I get??” Leon tightens the grip in your hair and throws you down onto the floor. “Ungrateful bitch.” He spits the words out, wiping at the blood on his cheek with the back of his hand. “Couldn’t just play nice, could you?”

Leon grabs you by the ankles and drags you across the floor back to your livingroom. You try to dig your nails into the ground, attempting to claw away. Anything. But it’s no use. He presses one of his boots against your back, keeping you pinned to the ground. He bends down close to your ear to whisper into it. “I’m feeling rather generous tonight so I’ll let you make it up to me and maybe, just maybe, I’ll go easy on ya.”

What did he mean?

He takes his foot off your back and brings it down right in front of your face, “Kiss it.” He instructs simply.

Your eyebrows pinch together, “Wha-“ you try to sit up but he quickly stops that, bringing his other foot to your back once again, pinning you down more firmly against the ground.

“Kiss. It. My shoe. Show me you’re sorry.”

When you don’t immediately jump to do so, he adds more pressure, forcing the air from your lungs. It was a silent threat. Hesitantly, you stretch your neck out to be able to reach the toe of his boot, pressing your lips hesitantly to it.

He tsks, “You can do better than that, sweetheart.”

Fearing retaliation, you try to add more enthusiasm as you press more kisses to the leather of his shoe.

“There we go. Not so hard, hm?” He praises, “Could use a little work but I’ll let it slide this time.”

The boot is pulled off your back and you swallow thickly, turning your head to look over your shoulder at his looming figure. Your whole body was shaking. Was that all he wanted?

Before you can say anything, he’s hoisting you up off the floor and placing you on your feet, “Up you go.”

“What..what are you gonna do to me?”

Your question is ignored as he nudges you down the hall towards your bedroom. Your footsteps are anything less than graceful, stumbling and bracing yourself against the wall for support as he keeps shoving you.

Leon lets out a breath through his nose, savoring how your scent was stronger in your room. And now he was finally in here with you. Not alone, sifting through your drawers which was something he’s done countless times before.

He turns to you. “Strip.” He orders.

Your eyes start to water and you make no attempt to listen to his instructions.

He wasn’t a patient man, especially now. “I said strip.” To punctuate the word, he rips your shirt easily, letting it slip off your body, earning a gasp as you flinch. “Do the rest yourself or I won’t be so nice.”

With a sniffle, you hesitate but then shakily reach behind yourself to unclasp your bra. You hear him suck in a sharp breath at the sight of your bare breasts finally in front of him for real.

“Atta girl. Keep going.” He feels the familiar strain in his pants.

His gaze doesn’t leave you as you reach for the button on your jeans, undoing the fastenings before you ease them down your legs.

“So beautiful.” He murmurs, his tone laced with adoration, his eyes taking everything in. The slope of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the meat of your thighs. He wanted to reach out and touch you, spend hours memorizing your body but he was selfish and needy. That would wait for the next time he decided to pay you a visit.

“On the bed.” He nudges your shoulder once again towards the mattress.

Your body trembles, unwilling, but you knew this was something you couldn’t get out of. You’d have to see this through.

His eyes are laser focused on you as you crawl onto the bed, letting out a hum of approval. “Hands and knees.”

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you follow his orders, positioning yourself onto all fours in front of him. He lets out a breath seeing your body splayed out in front of him. Waiting, even if unwilling.

You bite down on your bottom lip when you hear the jangle of his belt., sucking in a sharp breath at the feel of his fingers trail down your spine, large hand resting on the small of your back.

“So beautiful and all for me.” His tone was almost reverent and it made you nauseas. “I’ll try to be gentle. No promises though.”

Leon spits into his hand before working it over his shaft, collecting some of the precum already beading at the tip and combining them together into a makeshift lube.

He steps up to where you’re presented before him, letting go of his cock to spread your cheeks apart. “Oh sweetheart.” He breathes out, taking in your pretty pussy.

The seconds feel like an eternity as you wait for him to do something, already anticipating what he was going to do. You try to keep your cries quiet so he doesn’t hear them.

Leon lines himself up, running his tip through your folds, bumping against your clit as he does causing you to shiver despite the disgust you feel. “Please don’t.” You whimper, one last feeble attempt to stop this before it goes any further.

“Shh.”

Slowly he eases his tip into your unwilling hole and he hisses out. God you were already so tight. You cry out as he forces more of himself inside. “It’s okay.” He tries to soothe you while he pushes more of your length into your gummy walls.

The resistance of your cunt only fueled his desires as he sinks the rest of his cock in until he’s fully sheathed. “Jesus Christ you’re squeezing me so tight.” He grunts, starting to rock his hips into you.

He wanted to be nicer but he couldn’t hold back. Not when he’s finally gotten you like this. Leon snaps his hips into you, pounding into your poor pussy.

Your cries are loud and almost make him feel like he should stop. He did feel guilty. At least partially. But you should understand, he was a man with needs and whether you were aware of it or not, you had become his home.

“Stop! Please stop! Just stop!” You wail.

Gritting his teeth, he reaches for your head, fingers gripping tightly into your hair and yanking your head back. “Stop fighting me,” He growls, “Just take it.”

He releases his grip from your hair in favor of shoving your face down into your comforter, muffling any sounds of discomfort or protest. Couldn’t he just get five minutes of peace?

His formidable cock continues to plunge deep into your pussy, finding spots that haven’t been reached before and making you feel so incredibly full.

“Can’t say you don’t like this,” He grunts, “Can feel how you’re gripping me.”

Leon feels the familiar build up growing stronger in his lower belly, the need to cum consuming him as he continues to rut into you.

Without warning he sinks himself fully into you, keeping you locked in place with a tight grip on your hips as he spurts his hot load deep in you. He whines pathetically, eyebrows scrunched together in pleasure.

The only good thing is that you assumed the worst was over. That is until he’s working his hips in and out again.

“Please no more.” You whine, trying to look back at him but again he shoves your face into the mattress.

He’d keep you here all night if it meant forgetting the horrors he’d been subjected to most recently, taking it out on your poor cunt.

“You’ll shut up and take what I give you.”

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[imaginariumwanderer]

Mkay last post before logging off. Featuring silly pixel art I made w/ my mouse.

This chart was actually made out of pure self-indulgent a while back with no intention of being posted, I ended up scribbling(?) all over the thing. Hopefully it's readable when zoomed in.

It's "my ship in 5 minutes" but I can make it 30 if you want. WARNING: Tons of sappy yapping+pixel art download under cut.

About "tropes": The trope is called Angel-Devil shipping, oh but I don't think PV is an angel. He's more like a God for SM (at least that's my preference)… Thinking at all the possible tropes that suits them make me really wonder why some people consider Shadowvanilla a crack/pro ship. Enemies to lovers or villain/hero ships have been pretty archetypal since the day of olds. Compared to all the ships I've encountered in the past… Shadowvanilla is more or less the "slightly out of the norm" on the "problematic ships scale" <- typing this out make me feel like an old fandom veteran haha

About "how it happens": I have no idea where to put PV on that chart. He's the one who approached first, but not out of romantic intents, him falling for SM is as unexpected as can be. SM fell first and slowly, and in 'slow' I meant decades upon decades. It's inevitable, painfully so, spending all those years watching over this cookie who's so perfect in his imperfections, how could one not feel something? Of course it's not so simple, that 'something' is a horrid mixture of disgust, envy, hatred, understanding, both the need to preserve and destroy… And maybeee the tiniest crumb of affection? SM realized something around the first couple hundredth years mark, he then spends the next thousands in denial of it. No matter. Whether it's PV or the Soul jam, his birth-given rights. SM knows what he wants and he WILL get what he wants. (He's wrong on both fronts. And somewhere in the back of his mind, SM knows that. But he'll never admit it. He'll never ever admit anything. Until it's too late. In a way, the same goes for PV)

About a certain someone who's not clingy, but would die for attention: I think PV gets lonely easily. As he's hyper-aware of himself and considerate of others, appearing clingy is the last thing PV wants. So PV would put extra efforts in taking care of those around him, be it cookies, animals or the greenery in his garden. A healer is always busy, always helpful. If he's always needed by others then he would never be afraid of being alone. Ironically enough, this ended up making PV come off as a little overbearing. As of late, the only ones able to see through the facade are Hollyberry cookie and you-know-who.

Other scattered thoughts: These two are completely different yet can't be more similar, on the various sliding scales they're either stuck to one another or are flung to both ends. On another note, honestly I can't see these two doing anything domestic together, the most I can see is cooking, which is basically the same as magic in the cookie world. Anyways, are they in "love"? Are they dating? Not really, no. It's more of a a parasitic-turned-symbiotic-soulbond, a will-they-won't-they-destroy-the-world situationship (iykyk) I do enjoy relationships that's hard to put into words. Their feelings are somehow romantic, somewhat deranged and something much, much deeper.

My desire to ship these two comes from the desire to see them grow beyound their archetypes. Being with PV does give SM the chance to be horrible as can be, yeah, but I'd like to think SM does have a personality outside of being a villainous tormentor. He spends so long observing others, and now for the first time he's being seen. Now SM have met someone who can see right through him, who can glimpse into those dammed vulnerabilities of his. Being with SM does let us see PV in his darkest moments, but it's at the same time the moments where PV can shine the most, to prove SM that his ideals isn't naïveté or simple platitudes. In canon, SM+PV works well as enemies, but it is the many contradictions born when romance is added into the mix that got me shipping. They simultaneously break down and bolster one another's greatest traits. Like binary stars, they orbit around the other, so close yet so far apart, lest they collide. They could've been so perfect for each other. But not in this life, or the next, or the next...

Pixel art time! I have way too much fun w/ Smilk's many faces, his and PV's combined came to around 22 expressions. These are quick to made due to their small size (25x25 px). Zip file includes both the og and 75x75 sizes. I don't mind if any Vanilla milkshakers might use these, just please remember to read the my art terms and conditions first! (which can be found in my About)

Some disclaimer: some images may have different names. This is the first time I'm using Getuploader so sorry if something broke.

Link

[oskidontle]

HUNGRY SMILERS 🔪

Alright so first off I know this kinda stuff is not everyones cup of tea so for followers and randoms alike that don't want to see this AU pop up in the future block the #HungrySmilersAU tag as that's what I'll be tagging this.

Anyway! Took me long enough. I only hope that the few of you who have been lingering around find this worth it. I also hate how Tumblr absolutely demolishes quality.

While they all didn't know it out first. Slowly but surely something invaded their systems, changed them. Now they are at the mercy of something primal. The Hunger.

The Hunger. Is it a force? Infection? Parasite? Spell? It's unknown what it is exactly but now they have a hunger for human and critter flesh.

They remain stable most of the time but the longer they go without feeding the more their own bodies fight against them; eventually they loose control of themselves and their forms. (This form change can also be triggered at the start of a hunt)

They hunt their clients. Their main goal is still to make the client smile but it's a ploy to slowly gain trust of the client. When the client finally smiles The Hunger takes over and the hunt begins.

The Smiling Friends are completely aware of what they're doing but it is out of their control. As you can imagine being forced to kill people weighs heavy on a conscious.

Interestingly they are never caught. Nothing ever pops up on the news. No police reports aside from the occasional missing persons report. Mr.Boss also seems to know more than he lets on. But that's for a future post to get into.

Anyway sorry if you expected something like hyper detailed in design. Or analog found photos type of style. I wanted to keep the designs easily recognizable. Less scary to us as viewers and more scary in-universe. Of course I tried to still make em all a bit creepy to look at. Hope this will work regardless! ^^

[pasukiyo]

TAKE YOU LIKE A DRUG

bodyguard!leon x f!popstar!reader word count; 1,576 warnings; smut, oral (f receiving) summary; he's tried time and time again to push you away, to make you understand that you don't know what it means to want him. but how can he resist the temptation when you come barreling into his hotel room in the late hours of the night?

 Three knocks against Leon’s hotel room door woke him. 

 With a grumble, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his knuckles digging the sleep away from his eyes. He blinked through the blurriness of his vision down at the phone resting on the nightstand, ‘2:30’ in big, bold white letters across the top of the screen. 

 Three more knocks on the door made him rise from the bed and pull a loose t-shirt over his head, muscles aching with each step he took. 

 Frustration laced his weary bones— for fuck’s sake, it was his night off. For just once, he’d like to get some real sleep.  

 The knocking began again and Leon swung open the door before the count could reach three. He blinked, his brow dipping as he took in the figure before him. Her name tumbled from his lips and it was as if his voice was what made her snap, surging forward into him, her lips sealing his in a kiss. 

 Leon nearly stumbled backwards when she threw herself on him, an arm wrapped around his neck and a hand cupping his cheek. He steadied himself with either of his hands on her hips, attempting to pull himself away but the desperation in her kiss dragged him right back in, as if the ocean’s waves had crashed over his head. 

 Leon had kissed her many times before, too many times to count. They’d kissed in secret, in many storage closets, in dressing rooms, behind many backs. They’d kissed in hotel rooms, rental homes, even in each other’s own bedrooms. They’d kissed slowly, they’d kissed hard, they’d taken their time, and they'd kissed until they had to force themselves away to make schedules on time. 

 She kissed him now with a desperation he’d never tasted, never felt from her before. Her kiss was mind-numbing, nearly enough to turn his brain to mush and make his knees feel weak. But the slick, oily voice somewhere in the back of his head reminded him that he couldn’t do this, that he knew this was wrong. The voice’s whispers infected his brain like a parasite and twisted like vines around his ears, its breath hot as it curled around his cheeks. 

 Leon peeled open his eyelids and pushed her away by the grip he had on her hips, either of their chests heaving. She blinked up at him, a furrow in her brow and a look so devastating in her eyes that he had to turn away, wiping her spit from his lips. 

 “I told you we can’t do this anymore,” Leon managed to say over his panting. 

 She shook her head, “I don’t care.”

 Leon, still with his back turned, closed his eyes, willing his heart to ease in his chest. This was the last thing he needed— temptation. Because that was all he saw whenever he looked at her. Temptation. A lust from deep within the pit of his belly for risk, a dark, twisted desire to corrupt her, to ruin her like he already was. There were many secrets he’d kept— from her, from others. Secrets he’d buried long ago and vowed he’d never let resurface— secrets he was too tempted to dig up from the grave he’d abandoned long ago the closer he let himself be drawn to her. 

 There was a whole life’s worth of baggage he knew he shouldn’t burden her with, knew she didn’t deserve to have to deal with. Leon Kennedy was wrong for her in every single sense— why couldn’t it just be simple to get her to understand that?

 Leon sighed her name again, “you should,” he shook his head. “You should also be asleep right now. You just played a two hour show and you have a photoshoot in seven—“

 “I don’t care, Leon.”

 His muscles tensed when her hand slithered around his elbow, casting a glare to the ground beneath their feet as she coiled like a snake around his body until she stood before him. She dipped her chin, leaning down until their eyes could meet. 

 “Why are you always depriving yourself?” She asked, her temper short and rising to the gleam in her eyes. “You always push me away but I know you better than you think, Leon.”

 Leon’s jaw clenched and his gaze sharpened, shaking his head. Her bottom lip quivered at the intensity of his stare but still, she wouldn’t relent, wouldn’t let go. 

 “You don’t know the first thing about me,” he muttered. “And trust me, if you did, you wouldn’t want me.”

 She huffed, pressing her lips together to tame her temper. “You don’t know that,” she shook her head and he scoffed, slipping his arm away from her grip. She followed when he turned to move away, like a leech in his skin he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried. “Will you stop walking away from me for one goddamn second and just listen to me?”

 Leon turned, towering over her very suddenly, eclipsing whatever little light still remained in the room. She nearly stumbled back when he hovered over her, her lips parting in a gasp when her back hit the wall. Even still, Leon leaned closer, sleep a distant memory on his bones. 

 “When will it get through your thick fucking skull that I’m not good for you?” He practically hissed with a venom she felt straight in the chest. She blinked, and he continued, “you don’t know what it means to want me. You don’t know what kind of baggage you’re asking for.”

 There was a lump at the base of her throat that visibly bobbed when she swallowed and what might have been mistaken for fear began to show for what it really was— curiosity, desire, lust. 

 “I think I can discern what’s good or bad for me on my own,” she murmured, “I don’t need you to make decisions for me.”

 Leon blinked— was it even possible to get this girl to realize she was making a mistake?

 She balled the front of his t-shirt in a fist and tugged him into her, their breaths two ghosts in a waltz, the tips of their noses nearly touching. 

 “When will that get through your thick fucking skull?” She asked in a whisper, gaze flickering down to his lips and back. Leon’s heart thundered in his chest, the oily voice growing louder, barking its warnings. But the longer they stared at one another, the fainter the voice seemed to be until it drowned altogether. 

 Leon’s breath shuddered when he sucked it in, “you’re making a mistake.”

 She leaned further in until their lips were a mere wisp away from each other, “I’ll think I’ll live.”

 Their lips became one again and this time, Leon had no intention of pulling away. His hands were on her hips, woven in her hair, hers on his face, on his shoulder. They kissed with a fervor neither had ever felt before, their kiss was electric, and with a simple spark, they were both set aflame. 

 Leon’s hands carried her to bed and caressed the soft stomach beneath her t-shirt, his fingers curling around the hem of her shorts and tugging until they, along with her underwear, were discarded in a pile on the floor. 

 There they were again, making the same mistake they made time and time again. Her hands were in the dark blonde hair atop his head, still messy with sleep and his arms were hooked around her thighs, face burrowed into the sopping cunt between her legs, breathing her in like a vapor. His tongue swirled around her clit at an agonizing pace, one that had her throwing her head back into the pillows, her back arching up off the mattress. 

 “Mmm…” she mewled, squirming where she laid. “Fffuck Leon.”

 Leon hummed against her aching bud, taking her in as if she were a drug, for that’s exactly what she was. 

 A drug— one he couldn’t get enough of. One he always pushed away from but still clawed his way back to over and over again. She was a beautiful vice tied with a ribbon of glamor and fame, the physical embodiment of everything Leon didn’t and would never deserve. She was something too grand, too perfect, too good for him. 

 Leon greedily lapped up everything she had to offer with his tongue to her center, staring up at her through heavy, hooded lids as she writhed and mewled his name. She sang for him like the pretty little songbird she was, his tongue’s ministrations her muse, the ink to the pen she used to write her lyrics. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if this moment would be turned into a song, music thousands of her fans would scream the lyrics to and he’d be the only one to understand it for what it truly meant. 

 “Fuck! More… Leon, please! Feels so… shit! Feels so fucking good!”

 Like the selfish bastard he knew he was deep down, Leon buried his tongue further into the heat of her cunt, stealing her siren’s song straight from her lips. She was like a siren, enchanting him with her song, with each pretty little note he dug from her with every stroke of his tongue. And just like the selfish, undeserving bastard he was, Leon drank everything she had to offer up like an expensive brand of wine. 

a/n; another one in the books for these two! thank you all so much for all the love you gave i can see you, it makes me so happy to see so many of you enjoying this little au! (also to see fellow resident evil fans/swifties 🤭

🎀 if you enjoyed this one, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@corruptcoder

@chaoticevilbakugo

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[arminsumi]

. . . 𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭

Geto Suguru

Regret has haunted Suguru ever since he parted ways with you; he's pining, lost, going mad. It kills him that he's made an enemy out of someone he loved.

► "I know that I ended it... but why didn't you stop me?"

+ Warnings/content: angst, pining, friends to enemies to lovers

Suguru's deepest regret is that he didn't kiss you before he parted ways. It eats him up more and more every day, like a parasite in his chest, chewing slowly on his muscles down to his bones.

Why didn't I kiss you?

He asks himself this so often — too often, god, he can't catch a break from his own mind, can't stop this regret from gnawing on his ribcage.

But isn't he his own obstacle? He chooses not to get over you. Yes, he actively chooses to not move on. Day after day, Suguru chooses to vividly remember the day he said goodbye to you — it's become his favorite film, he's memorized all the expressions, words, tones and romanticized it to no end.

We were perfectly tragic.

Late spring, flowers on the floor, black night, his tears, his shivering lashes, that quivering voice. Looking into his eyes, you saw that he wasn't prepared to let go.

He was holding onto you. Claws in your flesh.

Maybe that's why he chose to say farewell behind the 7-eleven; it was the place where you and him first met. The story was that both your Jujutsu schools had coincidentally assigned you two to exorcise the same curse; you were confused by Suguru's technique and wrongly went for him, like he was the bad guy — isn't it all so ironic now? You remember how he panted with a smile, like he got a kick out of fighting you, how he explained to you that it was a misunderstanding and that he was on your side. He remembers receiving a hateful look from you; it made his heart tick, leading him to wonder to himself what's wrong with me? I always love women who hate me.

Because of how you met, you and Suguru being 'enemies' was a running joke that carried on through your late teenage years.

Springs passed. Things changed — no, things got worse. Suguru was drowning and no one could see it, not even you, the girl who knew him like the back of her hand.

Suddenly, all those years spent living side by side each other in blissful, oblivious youth converged into a moment of goodbye.

There went by the scent of those falling flowers. Suguru's nerves were at full attention, sharp and prickly all over his skin. Goosebumps. He was jittery, even shaking — a look that you never thought he'd wear, being as cool as he always was.

You told him, "You don't have to be someone you're not just because of me." but he didn't want to hear that. No, he needed to hear something else. He needed to be told "Suguru, no matter what path you take, I'll always love you, deep down inside."

The night breeze chilled him. He stared down at you, eyes full of hurt like you've never seen in a man's eyes before.

Stark neon light from the vending machines painting your features, he didn't miss how your lips quivered. He leaned into you slowly, but then there was a sudden stutter in his movements. Something held him back.

Suguru chickened out from kissing you — that's what it seemed like to you, anyways.

But it was deeper than that. He never opened up about it. He just left. He just went.

. . . 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭,

and he's still haunted by memories of that night, heart rotting with regret. He can hardly sleep, can hardly eat, can hardly keep any food down — how could he stomach food when he can't even stomach his own choices?

Suguru visits the place where you and him first met.

He trudges through snow in winter, kicks leaves off his path in autumn — leans against the wall where the both of you once stood and just stares at the floor, allowing himself to hurt all over.

But no season makes him hurt quite like spring, when the scent of blooming flowers is so potent and strong that he chokes up.

What would you do if you saw him again?

He's thought so deeply about what he'd say to you that it's become a script; he knows the words by heart.

Why didn't you stop me?

Did you have feelings for me?

Do you hate me?

Please let me kiss you. Just once.

No, he's scratched the last one off his script.

He sighs to himself all the time — all the time. How did he make an enemy out of the one he loved?

A question that plagues his brooding mind is do you still love me even after what I did? He wonders if it's even possible. Sometimes he just settles on the assumption that you and Satoru hold a deep hatred against him.

. . . 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮,

your face appears around the corner; he can't mistake it.

Meeting you again after years have passed, though as enemies, makes him feel stilled, like all the chaos stops momentarily.

He doesn't know what to say, or how to act, so he just stays silent and motionless in front of you.

You speak and feelings start to rip him apart. "Suguru, where have you been?"

It's awkward. It's melancholic. The tension between you and Suguru is not just because of the gruesome truth of what violence he committed, nor the betrayal; no, it's more than all that.

He's utterly speechless, holding an unbreaking eye contact with you. Gazing into your eyes after so many years of staring into fuzzy photographs makes him feel giddy like a little kid, despite the severe expression you have.

You talk slowly and carefully to him, almost warily, and it breaks his heart little by little.

"I know we're not allies, but I'm still the same Suguru that you used to spend nights talking to." he quietly reminds you, hurt evident in his voice.

He gazes deeper into your eyes, deeper and deeper until he's dizzy. You hardly know how to respond.

"Suguru," you whisper back, tearing up, "Why did you do it?"

He doesn't respond, completely ignoring this.

"... I still think of you."

"... hey, answer me."

As he comes two steps closer, you back two steps away.

"... and I left so many things unsaid."

"... Suguru, I know, but — "

"... and I should have kissed you before I left." he blurted out.

Shocked, you take a moment to register what he just said.

"Why didn't you?"

"I just didn't want to taint you." he breaths, "I'm too fucked up and you're too sweet for me."

He brings his face closer to you, casting a shadow over your whole body, backing you into the wall. The setting sun peeks out from behind him, the breeze slows.

Suguru looks at you like an adoring, sad puppy. His face is full of all his regret and lust and longing and desperation. You've never seen this look in his eyes before — he's kept everything to himself ever since you met him.

Looking intently at your lips and wetting his own, he begs you softly, "Please, let me kiss you."

You shake your head very slowly, feeling so conflicted.

"Just once? Please, I need it so badly." he admits desperately, and then says your name in the softest tone you've ever heard a man speak in; your name, every letter so special to him, each syllable quivering in the air between your faces.

He's so close you can see every detail in his face; the harrowed eyebags, the sorrow in the wrinkles of his eyes, and flashes of memories in his pupils. Even more than all that, you can see the downturn of his parted mouth.

"I want to," you admit, swallowing sharply, "But I can't."

Lashes fluttering so sorrowfully, Suguru pulls back a little.

It's the same place, the same season, and the same pitiful situation.

There's a small silence in which you feel a madly desperate feeling emanating from Suguru, and then he crashes his lips onto yours so hard that you whimper.

Breathing hard, heart thumping up against his chest, Suguru holds you in place while he presses his wettened lips against you, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

You quickly surrender to him, and when you reciprocate his kiss — he whimpers. It's so subtle and quiet, but you feel it on your lips and tongue.

Kissing until you both run out of breath, Suguru finally pulls away — plucking little kisses from your lips as he does, like he just can't stop yet.

"I'm so sorry," he apologizes heavily, still keeping close to your face, not ready to let go. "I need you."

You look up into his eyes and he feels shivers going down his back.

"... I won't tell Satoru." you breathe.

His breath catches, and he doesn't hesitate to go in for the next kiss — and the next and the next and the next until you're letting him mark your neck with a harsh hickey.

Of course, you can't spend all day there, you realize after fifteen minutes of making out with your 'enemy'.

"I've got to report back." you tell him, "He's going to get suspicious if I'm out too long."

"Okay," Suguru pulls away, licking his lips and rubbing them together like he's just enjoyed a feast. "Can I see you again?"

"I don't know..." you mutter unsurely, "If Satoru finds out, he's going to — "

"So what?" Suguru feathers, "I don't care what he does, I don't care if I ruin your reputation — I need you in my arms tomorrow."

Your expression spoke volumes.

"Okay, I'll be here tomorrow night." you murmur.

Suguru's guilt hardly affects him as he goes home; your kisses meant everything to him. Your reciprocation and lamb-like weakness in his arms filled him with ecstasy.

He doesn't care that you were his 'enemy' — maybe the taboo makes it feel even better. It's wrong. It's not allowed. And he wants it so bad, he stands with eager anticipation behind the 7-eleven every night, waiting for you.

This place where you two first met, now five years later, has become a spot where you and him make out like teenagers.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[14thgalerie]

under pressure

• pairing: theodore nott x reader

• now playing: linger by the cranberries

• word count: 2.4k

• genre: angst

— an old piece that i never finished but i just wanted to post something because my account is so dead. i know exams work differently in hogwarts but for this one, let's just pretend that they do a semestral exam also.

“Theo?” You call from behind him, as you enter the common room where he sits in solitude. 

He makes no sound to acknowledge that he’s heard you, simply continuing to stare off into space. Long, slender fingers rhythmically tapping on his thighs.

Ignoring this, you make yourself comfortable on the nearest available seat, angling your body to face him. “You would not believe what I got for History of Magic!” You excitedly begin and with much enthusiasm, “But first you have to guess!”

Again, a silence greets you. This sparks concern in you since it was very unusual behaviour from him. But before you could ask, he emits a curious hum, still not looking directly at you. “What did you get?”

“You’re no fun.” You playfully jab at him, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. “Anyways! I got an Outstanding! Can you believe that?”

“It would’ve been hilarious if you hadn’t.” Is all he says in a deadpan, hollow voice. “What do you mean by that?” You prod.

“Imagine taking all of my time just for you to fail once again. I would have actually thrown myself off the pitch. ”

The muted glow of the scattered lamps and candles cast shadows on the walls, creating an ambiance that mirrors the strained emotions between you and Theo. The distant sound of chatter and laughter in the dorm rooms only served to accentuate the silence that ensued.

He sighs, “I am tired. Tired of your complaining, of your whines, of your stupidity over such a simple course. You are so excited over this when it isn’t something to be necessarily proud of. You know…” Theo trails off in an amused manner as if he has realised something funny.

“I find it funny how you are sitting all proud and excited about this one exam when in reality, it was all because of me. You wouldn’t have even gotten half of what you had if it weren't for me or with the help of the others. Leeching off of us like a goddamn parasite who hasn’t a mind of her own.”

Words fail you, unable to conjure up even a whisper in your shock. You stand up slowly, breathing out an unsteady exhale.

The words break on your skin like whips, cracking and splitting open still healing wounds. 

“I have never asked you for anything, need I remind you? You were the one who insisted on spending your oh so precious time teaching me. Time and time again, I reassured you that I could do it myself because I didn’t want you to waste it on me. Yet, it was always fine with you and you were adamant on doing it so don’t you dare put this on me now.” You grit out. “I have no idea as to why you are acting like a rabid dog, snapping at me unprovoked, but nothing will ever warrant that kind of behaviour. “ You shake your head sharply, glaring at him from underneath your eyebrow. 

You felt yourself becoming dizzy with panic and anxiety, confusion with the whole situation making it worse by the second. It was spreading so quickly and far into the recesses of your soul that you would fall to your knees if not for the support of the couch behind you.

Not willing to have him see you break down from his nonchalant words that were deliberately chosen to attack your deepest insecurities— unable to understand how it so easily came from the last person you expected it from. You quickly move towards the stairs, ignoring the weak call of your name. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock. 

Seconds—or was it minutes— slipped away since you have made the decision to lock yourself in your room. Leaving the room before everything gets worse. Surrounding yourself with a number of inked parchments that are filled with hundreds of thousands of words, none of which your brain registers. Despite your earnest desire to find solace with work, it was all futile as they were only mere words on paper that held no significance in comparison to what was brewing in your mind.

Instead, an incessant question pesters you. Was it really something to be so excited over? Lost in a silent deep rumination, accompanied only by the rhythmic flutter of an owl's wings as they flew past your open window and the rustling trees to occupy the silence. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock. 

The clock is still there to remind me of the hours that have passed— 3 and a quarter to be precise.

Perhaps you were being too over the top but you hadn’t meant to. The pure, unadulterated exhilaration overwhelmed you after Professor Binns called you aside after your last exam. It had become an accepted knowledge to you that History of Magic wasn’t necessarily your strongest suit. Enough so that it would’ve been perfectly fine for you to receive a less-than-average result.

To hear how exceptional you had done this time, possibly even greater than many of your classmates, your mind instinctively went to share your achievement with Theo. After all, he was the one who patiently dedicated hours guiding you in your review and it took precedence over his own. Assurances, that came off as more of arrogance, of how he would do just fine and that he could ace it even if he wore a blindfold.

Maybe that’s where it all went wrong. Could it have been the lack of sleep before? He does get a bit irritable with a lack of rest. You’ve seen it personally in the weeks that lead up to Quidditch games. The fatigue, in addition to the stress of the final exams before the holidays, must’ve steered him into that state. 

Despite feeling upset and somewhat finding fault within yourself, you couldn’t muster up the will to apologise first. While his behaviour tonight could have been explainable, for goodness’ sake, the way that he has gone about it was unwarranted— shouting and hurling the harshest words that he is capable of, at you. The person that rejected every offer, made by him, because you were scared to impose on his studying hours. Now he cannot even be happy at what you had worked so dedicatedly on with him?

After spending hours in the cold and dark room, doing nothing but ruminating on the argument, you realise that you refuse to allow his words to dampen your joy and excitement any more than they have already. Sitting up straight, you stretch your arms wide. Swiftly tidying the scattered papers and dried pens into an acceptable arrangement in your trunk before you settle down beneath your duvet cover. Giving up on the idea of getting any work done when your mind was elsewhere.

The both of you made plans to have a sleepover in your dorm room after your roommates announced that they would be spending the night elsewhere. However, it will be safe to say that the idea had crumbled into non-existence after the heated exchange of words between the two of you. 

As you lay there on your side, facing the stone wall with your back to the door, you couldn’t help but reflect on your argument. A hailing storm brewed in the furrows of your mind, unable to piece together what exactly you should do. The only thing you wanted was to hear his beating heart beneath you as you lay on his chest. But you knew that it wouldn’t be right for yourself to concede.

Of all the ways that you’ve imagined for him to react, what had truly occurred did not even appear in your mind. It left you tossing and turning in frustration and confusion, unable to fall asleep in peace. Only the warmth and lasting scent of his cologne on your duvet keep you calm— the realisation that you couldn’t even properly be mad at him makes you huff.

In the silent war within you, you were deaf to the aged door groaning in protest as its rusty hinges emitted a creaking sound that left the person behind it wincing. Nor did you hear the unusually gentle footsteps that followed.

So much so that even the shadows that lurked within the walls would have thought that the footsteps were a figment of their imagination. In the way that the presence hesitated outside of your room as if they were heavily contemplating.

It was only at the weighted dip of the bed behind you and the hesitant arm that crept around your waist that were you pulled from your trance. Yet, you bore no intent of recognition for him even as he had fully suited himself behind you with his chin tucked in the crook of your neck.

As his presence enveloped you, he began with a slight tremor in his voice. “Y/N…I-“

“I could write and speak a thousand sorry’s and reasons for why the words had so easily slipped from my lips, but they will never unspeak them from existence. I promised your mama that I will never let a speck of hurt flash across those eyes, and I will forever apologise to her for breaking that promise.” A shaky exhale lines the last few syllables. “I was so unnecessarily horrible and mean to you without meaning to. So consumed by this- this emotion that flooded me, something that I had lost control over.”

Every syllable was accompanied by a hesitant tone that left the words sounding shaky; nervous. Coupled with the drop of tears that lined your neck right where his head sat.

You listened, listening to his apology, but the wounds were still fresh. The echo of his sharp words runs deep beneath your skin, embedded into your bones, prickling with every second you are reminded of them. The sincerity in his voice clashed with the pain he had caused with his words, leaving you torn between the desire to understand and the reluctance to let go of the hurt.

“You really hurt my feelings, Theo.” If he wasn’t already drowning in misery, hearing his name fall from your lips after he worked many weeks to be called something else had him gasping for breath. “I genuinely want to forgive you, but at this moment, I can’t quite find it in me to do so. You blew up on me for absolutely no reason. I need you to help me understand, to give me a reason behind your outburst, not mere words of guilt. Because even if you say sorry a thousand times, I would never be able to forgive you for clearly attacking me where I would greatly feel it.

His voice, meek in the tense air between the two of you, unfolded with a raw honesty that lays bare his desperation for this to be over.

“The exhaustion from lack of sleep and finding that I barely got a passing grade…It was a bit too much for me. I have no idea why it even bothered me when, for so long, I could hardly give a damn about these stupid exams," he shared, sighing with exasperation.

A pang of guilt and shame flared within your chest at the knowledge. The initial shadow of hesitation and guilt that crept on you the days before came rushing back in. You should’ve known better than to allow him to persuade you. Turning around on the bed to face him. But before you could wallow yourself in these emotions, Theo quickly puts your mind to rest.

“Don’t blame yourself, darling.” He tenderly pushes a thumb against the forming frown on your forehead. “I should have told you that I needed to study also instead of leaving it to luck. I guess I was being a bit of a confident prick that got used to not reviewing for an exam that I fully forgot I missed a few lectures a few weeks ago. I truthfully never had and never will blame you, not when I had been the one, adamant enough, to help you out despite your protests.”

His admission carried a mix of self-awareness and remorse. The vulnerability that was clear in his words began to bridge the hesitance inside of you to relax, the layers of miscommunication slowly peeling away. 

You could sense the weight he carried. Despite his casual indifference to his studies, you knew that it was something that he silently prided himself in. To have that be ruined in addition to the cumulative stress that built up over time with his hectic schedule. Being reminded that even if he may seem so perfect on the surface, beneath that, he was still human; flawed, vulnerable, and young. Although the hurt had begun to shift, not fully dissipating yet, it had turned into a sense of empathy that allowed you a clarity of thinking.

A small, understanding hum escaped you. The strain in your voice is gone now, ”We need to work on our communication, then. No longer hiding things from each other for any reason, even if we think it does not matter. Part of our relationship is to work our problems side by side, even if it doesn’t concern the other. We shouldn’t have things fester until it explodes on us.” 

He nods, burying his head back into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” You gently pull his head back and look at him fondly. “And we need to also address the way you spoke to me earlier. Just because we were in the heat of the moment and lost in our emotions does not mean you have the right to do that, not when my mom raised me without raising her voice.”

“I’m really sorry. Merlin…I can still see the look on your face and I don’t think I would ever forget and forgive myself for being the reason behind it”. “I won’t say I forgive you just yet, that’s a boundary crossed for me. We should’ve had this talk in the beginning but better now than never. Let’s take a pause for now, and resume this conversation with a clear head.” He met your gaze with a blend of appreciation and a sense of resolve. 

masterlist

[the-blind-bard]

Parasite Shigaraki x Reader Pt. 2

|Part 1 | Part 3 (Soon) | Masterlist |

Synopsis: [Strangers/Lovers, Smut, Loser!Obsessive! Shigaraki] - |Shigaraki x Reader| Your family called your quirk "parasite", able to feed off of someone's quirk and make it temporarily your own. Luckily, the only other person on the subway happens to have the most powerful quirk you've ever seen and zero experience with women.

Content: MDNI, stalking, voyeurism, mention of masturbation, mutual obsession, reader has a quirk, submissive Shigaraki

You hadn’t heard from him at all.

Nights were spent pacing around your shitty excuse of an apartment, bitter curses leaving your lips and hands itching to destroy everything around you. 

You were irreparably mad that your lust for power must have -understandably- scared him off. 

For fucks sake, (Y/n). You killed a guy in front of him.

That might have been the most impulsive thing you’d ever done.

If only you had stuck to the friendly and cute act, not showing him the power-hungry monster that lives beneath your skin.

He would have been so easy. 

You could tell the minute you touched him that he would do anything you asked, clumsy and blushing. 

You were sure if you hadn’t scared him but instead had just pressed your lips to his and let your fingers pull his hair like pretty, blue ribbons, he would have been yours.

He was meant to be yours.

You could have both built him up and broken him down.

And now you sit in the silence of knowing what could have been.

What you could have been.

It threw you into a fit of rage at first. 

When a couple of days had passed without a single text or call, you thought surely you might run into him again on the subway.

Nothing. 

You got more and more desperate.

Taking long walks that were way out of your way, hoping to find out which direction he lived in. 

You were trying so hard to push down the obsession of finding Shigaraki, but every time you remembered the feeling of absolute destruction on the tips of your fingers, you took another hour-long detour home.

It had been a little over a week when you noticed it.

You were walking home from work, feet sore and not looking forward to the purgatory state of being on that subway. Today you were wondering if you should once again try to take some random stops home and seek Shigaraki out, but you were too tired for that today.

Good thing.

It had been another particularly bad day, leaving you with depths of unresolvable anger and an itch in your blood.

But things weren’t all bad.

 At least now you were comforted by the gentle footsteps lingering in the shadows behind you.

Leaving work, you noticed the feeling of eyes lurking in dark spaces. 

Red. 

Like you were being watched by a starved animal.

Flashes of blue.

Poor shy, pretty boy.

You were so sure he would either get on the subway and sit by you or he would approach you on the street, feigning coincidence. 

When you reached the subway, you weren’t so sure anymore.

You walked slowly to the subway stop, hands retreating from the cold and into your pockets. 

You could hear the softest patter of feet behind you. 

How cute.

The destructive little street cat wasn’t aware that he was chasing a panther.

And you let him think he was getting away with it too. 

You did for a couple of days, playing the role of the ignorant airhead, acting entirely unaware of the rapid increase in time he spent “with” you. 

Throughout the day and night, footsteps always echo from not too far behind you. 

You let him believe he had the power. 

You wanted him to get hooked to you like you were the memory of his quirk, unable to chase after anything else. 

When there were a couple of consecutive days where you were sure he’d been following you from morning till deep in the night, you decided he was ready.

Leaving work, Shigaraki was there.

Walking home, Shigaraki was there.

Dead of the night, purposefully leaving your bedroom curtain cracked open, Shigaraki was there.

Leaving for work in the morning?

Depends.

Looks like even he had limits on how persistent he could be. It made you wonder what else he did throughout his days.

What was he sacrificing in his daily life as he spent his time muffling whines in his throat as he peeked through your windows? 

On this day, though, he was there. His footsteps were a little more reckless. Sleep-deprived and dazed by you, he was far from stealthy. 

At this point in allowing him to follow you, Shigaraki is over-confident. 

He thought his girl needed him now more than ever. If she was too stupid to notice someone following her for this long, what would she do without him ever again? He couldn’t trust you to walk home alone. 

Not after that pretty but reckless mouth almost had that guy and his friends come at you like that. 

Tomura wasn’t sure of the extent of your quirk, but he hadn’t seen you use a quirk at all since that night. He was so sure now that you needed him as much as he needed to feel your hands caress his face again. Fuck, touch anywhere. He just needs you-

Tomura’s lethal confidence. 

He seemed to be a little bit bolder than you gave him credit for and it was obvious to you that he wasn’t as innocent either. You’d still grant him shy, but hearing him fail to stifle those pretty noises at night derailed some notions of innocence. 

No, you decided Tomura Shigaraki must be a closeted freak, perverted and nasty in the privacy of his mind and wherever he called home. 

That, you could certainly work with to your advantage. 

It was a little warmer today than usual, a murky and humid heat. 

Even the slight chill of the night did little to stop the sticky feeling of sweat on your skin. 

You dressed appropriately, clothes a little bit more revealing than usual. 

To anyone else, you were just a normal person dressing for the weather. 

But to the footsteps behind you, Tomura couldn’t decide if he loved the feeling of seeing you like this more than how disgusted he was when anyone else looked at you. 

You could hear every step of his, smiling to yourself.

You were near the part of the street where Shigaraki would stay hidden and watch -waiting to make sure you got on the subway- when you suddenly stopped walking. 

Your back was turned to him, but your smile never faltered. This was a drastic risk to take, but you had to do something.

“Would you like to walk with me instead of taking the subway today?”

You didn’t turn around, not wanting to startle the lurking man with sudden movement. For a while, you didn’t hear any response aside from the initial gasp at your question and the approaching sound of nails scratching angry skin.

A shadow was cast on the pavement from right beside you. Illuminated by the glowing street light, his shadow loomed over yours. 

Turning your head to him with a sweet smile, you could see the wild look in his eyes, fingers tearing at his skin with his other hand clutched in the pocket of his hoodie. 

Feral.

“Thank you, Shigaraki.” You started back on your course of walking.

It was odd. 

The two of you had been walking for a decent amount of time and no one made a move towards speaking. You tried to read his body language, but you were too worried about enacting his need to run. 

Meanwhile, he didn’t see anything wrong with the silence at all. He was reveling in your presence.

He was bitter about you finding him out, wondering how long you’d known, but he couldn’t find it in him to care now that you asked for him to walk next to you. God, he missed the smell of you. 

To be able to see every detail of you up close. 

This beats fogging up the window of your room, hand traveling dangerously low as he tries to justify the disgusting way your name leaves his lips in a pathetic prayer for mercy. 

How sweet and peaceful you looked, blissfully sleeping.

His angel. 

Surely angels were forgiving, right? 

You could forgive him as he relentlessly fucks into his own fist, brought to euphoria just by seeing you and remembering what your hand felt like on his skin.

“Join the league,” he mumbled to you so lowly your brows scrunched in confusion. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You kept walking, leaning in towards him to hear better.

His breath hitched slightly. Every inch closer you were to him the more alive he felt. 

“League of Villians. I saw you dust that fuckin’ guy the other day. But you’re not shit on your own, so you’d be a dumbass to not join us.” Perfect. Tomura was sure those words perfectly reflected that he simply wants you to come live with him, help him take over the world, fuck him stupid…

You were stunned by how boldly he spoke. This wasn’t the same whimpering man that sticks to shadows. Seems like when Shigaraki wasn’t needy, he was rude. 

Is it bad that it kind of excited you? That you felt goosebumps rise on your flesh in the middle of a summer night? That you like how unpredictable he’s proving to be? 

You like how he has the potential to be destruction embodied and maybe you can pave a path to being the only thing he wants to keep whole and to himself?

Hm. But he was proving unpredictable. 

League of Villians? Who the fuck is this guy?

Looks like you might have to be careful to not get attached to the boy more than the power.

Was this a joke? No way he could be this fucking perfect. 

“Villian, huh?” You smirked at him. “That’s why you’ve been my personal shadow lately? They have you on recruitment?” 

Shigaraku scoffed, but his heart picked up pace, anxiety prickling at being called out for following you. 

“I’m not some idiot lackey, side character. I’m the leader of the league. I also just had to make sure you weren’t some crazy bitch after being stupid enough to kill a guy in front of two witnesses and a stranger and not finish off everyone else.”

Fair enough. That wasn’t your brightest moment, but you could hardly be blamed for that when you were running off of the adrenaline of meeting someone like Tomura Shigaraki. 

“I didn’t want to scare you off.”

Shigaraki felt his heart physically pound, throbbing. Was this a fucking heart attack? God, you were going to kill him. 

You were holding back for him? Why the fuck did you care about a stranger like that? He’d never. 

It was all for him. You’re all for him. You’re his.

“Whatever.” Shigaraki shrugged, but the blush creeping up his pale skin told you enough.

Shigaraki tried to instinctively curl in on himself in flustered embarrassment. His shoulders were hunched forward, hands in his pockets, and his hair shielded his face from your view. 

You reveled in knowing all of his attitude was just a front. 

Carefully, you moved a hand towards him to tuck some of those loose, blue strands behind his ear. 

When his face was exposed to you once more, his eyes were blown wide, looking at you. You were the only person to ever reach out and touch him so boldly, and he thought there couldn’t be a sweeter feeling in this world. 

He couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. Anything would come out as an embarrassing noise or he might not be able to stop himself from simply begging you to touch him again. 

Anywhere.

 However you’d like. 

A deep content flooded your chest like the warmth of an ignited fire. 

“Are there more members of this league?”

He nods. You hum, pretending to weigh a decision you’d already made. 

“Take me there.”

Who was he to not follow a command from you? His feet set forward on the familiar path to the decrepit bar he called home and headquarters. 

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