#tw.violence

[fromduck]

No Glory

(Yandere Gladiator x Empress Reader x Yandere Emperor)

Summary: There is no glory in seeing your lover in the arms of another.

(Tw: Gore, Violence, Forced Relationship)

A/N: Guess who watched Gladiator II, hehe 🤭

-unedited-

-The Emperor’s wife is an untainted beauty.

-Despite the blood and death on his hands, the Empress remains pure from his sins.

-With soft luscious lips and unblemished skin, kind doe eyes a beautiful color.

-Draped in white robes, with gold accents. White Gold jewelry adorning her frame. Pearls hanging from her ears and entwined in her hair.

-She has a beautiful smile and kind eyes. Willing to choose mercy over shedding blood.

-Unlike her cruel husband who relishes in it.

-Anyone blessed to be within her radius marvel at her presence. Even more so when she smiles. Be careful not to stare too long, the Emperor’s watching.

-The Empress is beauty incarnate a being coveted by all people. Adored by the citizens of Rome and boasted as the most beautiful woman in the world.

-And the Emperor is a lucky man. A lucky man indeed.

-There are whispers of her divinity and where the Empress hails from.

-Some say she was given to Rome to the Emperor as a gift from the Gods.

-Others argue that she herself is a Goddess who willingly married their glorious Emperor.

-None know the Empress’ origins.

-Except for two people.

-The brutal Emperor of Rome.

-And a Gladiator who knows too much for his own good.

-A man who waits for the next fight he’ll be thrown in. Where he’ll be fighting for his life.

-For the delight and entertainment of others.

-His life matters not, it never did.

-Yet, when he wakes up, when he trains for his fights, and when he goes to sleep. He thinks of you. He lives for you.

-He knows the truth.

-You don’t belong to the Empire of Rome. Or that bastard Emperor.

-You belong to him.

-You were his long ago. When he wasn’t a war broken man torn by the cruelty of others.

-In a land far away from Rome, you both once lived together at peace.

-He’d been a gentle man once. Someone who pined after you in your youths, who’d begged your father for your hand, and had cried when he married you.

-He loves you so much.

-He had never been one for religion but if there were any gods out there, he thanked them sincerely for the life they gave him. One with you.

-Then the Romans came. And they took everything.

-They came with a hunger for blood and conquest. Ready to plunder their lands and take over them.

- They killed his family, his friends, people he had known.

-They did it with bloodthirsty grins. And the one who led them was the cruel Roman Emperor who lived for the violence.

-He killed many while on his black stallion. His sword plunging into innocent people.

-Man or woman, the Emperor didn’t care. He demanded blood and blood he would get.

-It was horrifying the strength of the Emperor as he slaughtered those around him.

- Your husband watched as he committed atrocities.

-There was no mistake, with that monster there, his and your home would be overtaken.

-Him taken a slave to fight in the pits of violence at the Colosseum.

-And you made a slave, owned by someone as an object.

-No. he wouldn’t let that happen.

-Now all he had left was you. And he would die before anyone touched you.

-So he prepared his stallion, picked up your precious form and placed you on the horse. You looked at him with worried eyes, tears slipping down your soft cheeks.

-He’d only look at you with loving eyes. Cupping your lovely face in his large hands.

-He remembered your look of worry as you questioned where would you both go. Your sweet gentle eyes pleading as you made him promise to never leave your side.

-He promised that not even death would separate you both.

-Then, he’d been clubbed upside the head. Pushed to the floor as someone began beating him with an inch of his life. He tried to get up but then another one had shown up with club and struck him in the head.

-Both Roman soldiers jeered as they continued their violent onslaught. He’d almost seen double.

-But what stood out to him was your anguished face.

-Your shrill cries of agony rang out through the air as the love of your life was beaten to a messy pulp.

-The stallion had jumped, and pushed you off of its massive body.

-You tumbled to the floor, hitting your back violently.

-With no regard for any injury, you’d quickly jumped up and tried to stop the cruel soldiers from killing your love.

-You’d shove at them yelling out for them to stop. Though to no effect as your smaller form was no match for the might guards of the Roman Army.

-One of them had only sneered at you before delivering a backhand to your face.

-You fell on your side, your nose bleeding from the impact.

-You quickly got up and clung to a guards leg as you begged for them to spare your husband.

-They ignored you and continued their onslaught.

-Until the galloping of hooves.

-There the Emperor was like a sign of death as he rode his gigantic black stallion.

-Blood coated his face and armor. None of it his.

-The war was over, Rome’s victory assured.

-And yet the Emperor was left unsatisfied.

-So he went on the prowl for more victims. All until no one was left.

-He caught sight of his soldiers torturing a large man as his wife begged them to stop.

-Any honorable leader would have stopped his soldiers and given the couple a swift merciful death. No more suffering was needed from a war already won.

-But he was far from honorable.

-As he approached it wasn’t because he wanted to stop the violence.

-He was honed in on the soft crying and pleading of the woman.

-A sound so delightful that he couldn’t help but want to hear more.

-He got off of his mighty horse. His steps confident.

-But as you turned around to face him, he felt his breathe hitch, his steps waver.

-It was as if he was in the presence of Aphrodite herself.

-There you were with tears in your big eyes and blood dripping down your nose.

-Even in filthy peasant clothes, you were the most beautiful being he had ever laid his eyes on.

-He had to had you. And have you he will.

-His eyes narrowed at your injured face. The soldiers most likely the culprit.

- “Stop.” He commands, his word alone enough to halt the violence.

-With a sob you run to your husband as he lay on the floor. You place his head on your lap. Ripping a piece of fabric from your dress, to clean the blood on his face.

-Your poor husband looks at you with swollen eyes, barely focused. Your heart broke further.

-The two soldiers quickly turn around. Sinking onto their knees to properly greet the Emperor of Rome.

“My emperor.” They say in union.

-They cower under the glare of the Emperor.

-“Which one of you hurt the girl?”

-Both soldiers look at each other confused. They weren’t talking about the sobbing girl behind them, was he? The enemy?

-The Emperor’s glare becomes murderous. He draws his sword from his scabbard. It glints with the blood of his foes. But all know that his sword can just as easily kill who he pleases, friend or foe.

-It was at that moment, both the soldiers knew that whoever was guilty— they would be dead in the next second.

-So, both blamed each other, scrambling to have the Emperor believe them.

-“It was him my emperor, he was the one who hurt the girl—-”

-“Nay my emperor, he lies—”

-Both soldiers plead their innocence. But the Emperor isn’t known for his patience.

-With a brutal slash, he beheads the two soldiers.

-Their heads roll off their bodies.

-A huff of satisfaction leaves the emperor, soldiers who lie are not worthy of his army. He may not be honorable but he has no patience for lying snakes.

-He averts his gaze, to you, only to be meet with a puddle of blood. Presumably your husband’s.

-The emperor snaps his head to your quiet sobs. He sees you dragging the large form of your husband, his arm over your shoulder, his form barely moving.

-You both were trying to escape, this wouldn’t do.

-With large strides, he rips you away from your lover. The man falling gracelessly onto the floor. He tries to pick himself up but his strength is diminished. He could only watch as the Emperor, holds your hands and stares into your beautiful eyes in awe.

-He knows that look. That look of adoration as if in the presence of a goddess.

-Your husband holds the same look for you and now the Emperor does too.

-You try to escape but the Emperor’s grip is painfully tight.

-A whimper escapes your lips as the man gets down on his knees, his head bowed. He mimics the same loyalty his subjects would show him. But he is in the presence of a goddess.

- “The Gods have rewarded me by giving you to me.” He whispers breathlessly. “You are the one they have chosen for me. Rome needs an Empress. And I need a wife.”

-With the hunger of a man starved he yanks you down to him, grabbing you by the hair and devouring you into a brutal kiss.

-You cry out into the kiss, looking at your husband pleadingly to save you from the Emperor.

-But your husband is at death’s door, fighting and pleading Hades to not take him. For he couldn’t leave you to such a grim fate.

-The Emperor pulls away, his eyes filled with lust. He’ll have you, but not here in this filth.

-He picks you up a bridal style, taking you to his horse. Taking you to Rome.

-You try to fight him, but he only gives you a scolding glare. As if to say, ‘behave.’

-You cry quietly, looking at your husband’s dying form. The Emperor only sneers at him, spitting on his bloodied face.

-Your husband looks at the Emperor with rage. A rage that makes him shakily get up on his knees.

-Your hands are tied behind the Emperor’s neck, begging him to let you go. A smack to your thigh makes you shut your mouth.

-Once you’re both secured on the horse, the Emperor doesn’t even glance back at him.

-He rides off into the distance, with the blood of his people on his hands and the love of his life in tears.

-Your husband, a broken man, lets out a sorrowful scream. He promptly collapses onto his side, passing out. Pleading with the gods to not take him. He needed to save you.

-Later, he was dragged by his feet. Slave masters had found him. They bet on how much money the large man could make them.

-Him, a none violent man, was put into fighting rings were people placed bets on who would win.

-Your husband, a gentle man was turned into a former shell of himself with each blood shed that coated his hands.

-A man who once held you with tender hands was forced to use them to kill for the entertainment of others.

-He fought weaker men, stronger men, and terrific beasts. All who were in the same position as him. All for the entertainment of others.

-The life he was forced into would have broken others, but not him. Not when he was fueled by an anger. An anger for the Emperor who had taken everything from him.

-The hesitance he once had for killing became nonexistent with each fight. His worth as a slave becoming more and more valuable. And he was taken to more and more valuable places.

-Like a blood thirsty hound, he followed you. He was at the edge of death many times, yet he refused to part from you.

-He followed you to Rome, vengeful and angry. Many times he thought he’d die but once he made it to the grand city, he knew the Gods had given him another chance.

-He needed to be stronger for you. So that he would save you.

-His reputation as a vicious fighter spread throughout Rome. Many eager to see him in the Colosseum.

-And that’s where they took him.

-Now he stands in the arena, his heart beating erratically in his chest. Blood splattered on his face and armor. None of it his.

-There is no glory where he stands while his defeated opponents lay bleeding on the ground.

-There is no glory in the screams and cheers from the crowds. All chanting his name as he stands as the last man standing.

-There is no glory in his victories, where he gets to live another day.

-His eyes shift to where you sit in the grand seats of the Colosseum. You’re beautiful with your beautiful gown and jewelry. Yet you look at him with such sadness. As if he were another dream out of reach.

-His soft eyes harden when a firm hand grabs your soft one.

-The Emperor brings your hand to his lips, kissing it ardently.

-He doesn’t break eye contact with him as he does this. A clear claim of ownership over you.

-He grits his teeth.

-There is no glory when you’re trapped with that despicable man. There is no glory when you’re not his. There is no glory when the Emperor is still breathing.

-He returns the Emperor’s glare. Eyes hard with pure hatred and loathing.

-And for that, the Emperor must die.

[lady-lauren]

❥ RYOMEN SUKUNA X FEM! READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: Cannibalism (Sukuna just takes a few bites of you, as a treat), Sukuna has two cocks and four arms, major dub-con, blood, Sukuna is a sadist, double penetration (vaginal and ass fucking), degradation, branding (his name on your skin), squirting, belly bulge, overstimulation, creampie

Dead Dove Do Not Eat. I’m serious. Sukuna eats more than just pussy.

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

“Oh you poor, poor little thing,” his maniacal mouth coos, sweat shimmering against the black lines of his body like an abyss, “does it hurt? I bet it does.”

It’s a rarity that Sukuna plays with his toys, normally too insatiable to take his time and savor. But you’re just so sweet, juicy with fear and plump with arousal. 

He’ll have to taste the whole menu to decide which doughy part of you is his favorite. 

You’re spread open like a feast, two hands prying your legs apart while another keeps your pesky hands locked above your head. Sorcerers are tricky—one lapse in judgment and you’ll be squirming out of his bed, throwing annoying techniques at him like you really think you stand a chance.

Perhaps you won’t, though. Your precious cunt is drooling for him, even as his fourth hand digs a claw into the flesh of your thigh. Blood swells to the surface, spilling in a streak down your skin. So close to where your pussy is stretched open, where your tight little hole is fluttering like it's scared. 

“Just a few little bites, m’kay? Then maybe, just ~maybe~ I’ll let you go.”

“H-how many?” 

He’s surprised you can still speak. 

“Hmmmm,” his voice rumbles in the thick confines of his throat as he ponders. Carmine irises flicker over the shape of you. “This looks good.” Sukuna taps his bloody fingertip to the underside of your breast, pressing into the gooey fat. “This too.” He traces a sharp fingernail across the juncture of your neck and shoulder, eyes sparking when you swallow. “And I already got started down here.”

Sukuna digs a claw back into your sore thigh, using the barest hint of his strength to rip into your tender muscle. 

Your scream makes a satisfied shiver run down all of his limbs, both cocks throbbing. They twitch together, hot and angry, red tips leaking down his shafts.

Licking his lips, he admires the sugary shine of your subcutaneous tissue, peeled back to reveal bloody insides of your flesh. Just a little rip, a stringy bit of meat that’s too easy to fully tear off and slide between his teeth. 

Sukuna swallows and the taste of you makes him want to cum.

“Mhmmmm, fuck, what did you do to get so flavorful, hm? Or have you always been so sweet?” 

He watches you whimper and wiggle, nipples hard and puffy. 

“You like this?” The grin that curls around the tattoos on his cheeks is sickening. “What a fucking delightful little human. I’ve never gotten lucky enough to find one of the sluts.”

He tests his theory under the safety net of knowing that pain makes you numb. Releasing your wrists, he revels in how you simply let the weight of freedom fall into his mattress. You aren’t going anywhere.

Your poor little pussy is creaming, squishy and wet and begging. He likes the way it smells—tangy, thick honey. It almost overpowers the iron scent of dripping blood. 

“‘Suppose you need some attention. Don’t want you passing out before I’m done.”

You gratify him with a high-pitched moan as he swirls two fingers against your cunt, knuckles sticky in your slick. Easy, it’s far, far too easy for him to slip his digits into you. Normally there’s resistance, like human pussies are trying to push him out, yet you’re sucking him in.

“What should I eat next? Pick for me.”

All the emotions that filter over your face are foreign to him. He’s not sure what you’re thinking, but can smell some sick mixture of pain and pleasure rippling over your skin as you weakly buck your hips. His fingers sink deeper into your cunt, claws tickling against soft spots that make you mewl. 

“C’mon,” he tsks, “don’t make me wait.”

Your little gulp is so cute, “My c-cunt…”

“Oh, don’t get greedy. Dessert comes last. Try again.”

You’re almost shy as you drag one of your hands from above your head, trailing down to cup one of your breasts and squeeze. “Here?”

“My, my, those tits do look delicious.” 

He shoves a third finger into your weeping hole as he latches his teeth to the fat of your breast. 

He sucks, tastes your sweat, licks at the salt. As the first bite hits his taste buds, blood trickling down the corners of his lips, his eyes go wide in astonishment. He wasn’t expecting such a burst of flavor, like jellied candy popping in his mouth.

Your shrieks are just fodder, background noise, as he hums in delight and sucks at the viscid lining of your skin.

Fuck. With the next bite he wants to be inside you, feel the tremors of your wrecked body around his dicks. 

The wound bleeds down your stomach as he pulls away, swallowing and licking along his sharp teeth to gather the remnants. 

“Aren’t you just such a treat?” 

Sukuna swats your cheek, quick with his nails angled like a cat so he can scratch at your skin. Your head lolls to the sheets, panting, damaged tits heaving as you try to find sanity. It’s too late for that. He’s going to break your body and mind, binge in your honeyed sorrow. 

“Wakey, wakey, little human. You won’t want to miss what comes next.”

Your brows pinch as he draws his messy fingers from your cunt, only to wrap a hand around each of his cocks so he can pop both heads into your holes. 

That wakes you up. 

“C-can’t, n-not both.” 

“Oh please, you’re all soft and squishy. Girls are made to be fucked.”

The swell of your belly as he pushes in makes him even hungrier. Your ass strangles his cock, the rim wet with the drippings of your slick. He hates that he has to be careful. A too strong push could split you on his dicks, and he’s having far too much fun to be devouring your guts just yet. 

But he’s not gentle. All four hands latch onto you—legs held so wide it’s nearly obscene, the other two sinking into your rib cage and smearing in blood so he can pull you down until you’re impaled. 

The squeeze of you is divine. 

The heavy mass of his cocks stretches your walls thin. He can feel the outline of both his dicks as he starts to thrust, mushroom heads catching on one another before bullying in deep.

It’s no surprise that you’re crying—humans always cry, sob, beg. It is perplexing and oh so satisfying, however, that you’re blubbering because you feel good amidst all your pain and suffering. Your hips are rolling back to meet his thrusts, pussy convulsing every time his pelvis grinds into your clit. 

Your bleeding and broken body is devouring him just like he swallowed your flesh. Your gooey pussy is sucking around him, dragging along his shaft like lips gobbling him whole. 

The hiss he releases is sinful, like a snake coiling as his tattooed thighs presses you deeper into the crimson mess he’s created. He likes the way the ichor stains your skin. He takes a bloodied hand and curls it around your thigh, fingers long enough to overlap and color your flesh like a brand. He could crunch your bones beneath his palms, break you into pieces if he wanted.

“Do you want me to, ah fuck—” he loses his train of thought when the sound of his voice makes your ass clench, ribbed walls wedging around his second cock. “Never fucking mind giving you the option. I’m keeping you. Alive. Want your body warm every time I fuck it.”

The look in your eyes is so hopeful and darling that it almost makes him feel something. 

Sukuna pummels into your gaping holes and leans over your body to sink his teeth into your neck. He bites hard, hard enough to make you weep and wail and to remind him that you’re only here to be devoured.

He rips tender flesh and digests it, drinking down more of your blood as you start to coo from the stinging pain and numbing ecstasy of having him ravage your sensitive little pussy and ass. You get so tight around him in your anguish, all fucked out and eaten like you’re nothing but a willing piece of meat. 

His wanton tongue laves over your marred skin, sliding through blood and sinew. Humans always were his favorite. Only now he can’t remember what any of them tasted like before you.

Your cunt is slobbering, creaming, and he’s pretty sure he hears your weak little heart stop beating for a split moment before you cum. 

“God what a good fucking slut,” he purrs, eyes rolling back in his head as he feels both of your channels compress around his lengths as you break. “Let’s make you do that again.”

You’re so overstimulated from the bliss of his cocks thrusting in, out, in, deeper, faster that all the suffering he inflicted is null. You cum again because it’s so easy to make you, one of his hands pinching your swollen clit until you squirt all over his toned stomach and your belly bulges from the shape of his inflating cock.

“Ohh I like that. More. Give me more.”

Two hands keep your kicking legs pinned to the bed as another torments your clit and the last is gathering your slick. He runs his fingers over the grooves of his abs and up to his pecs, finally flicking his fingertips into his mouth to eat your cum like sauce. 

His cocks swell at the flavor of you, tart and salty like some kind of rich delicacy. 

Sukuna continues to stuff you full, over and over again, pressing in until it seems like you’ll pop. His balls are bruising against your body with every brutal thrust. You’re babbling and messy, coated in slick and blood and tears and spit. It’s almost disgusting, yet he has to admit you’re just so damn pretty and warm that he thinks it’s cute. Like a pet. 

He rubs at your engorged clit until you’re squirting and screaming again, babbling about how it’s too much. Only it’s not enough, not for him. He’s close to the edge and knows just how to get himself off. 

Sucking at a clawed fingertip, Sukuna eyes a soft patch of skin below your bouncing, intact tit. The other is still seeping, his fresh bite etched into the globe.

“One last thing,” he smirks, crazed and nearly fucked out, “gotta let everyone know these slutty holes belong to me.”

The sharp tip of his nail digs into your meat, slicing the characters of his name as if he was signing a gory, whorish picture. His smile nearly splits his skull at the sight, all bloody and gross and his.

“~K-Kunaaa…” hearing his broken name out of your stupid little slut mouth is the last straw, some primal instinct to claim his prize overwhelming his senses and making him explode. 

Cum bursts from your seams all while bloating in your belly, your ass, pearly white strings glistening against all your fluids. He feels relieved as he releases into you, hot balls pulsing as he feeds his seed into your gummy depths. 

You’re so full of his cum that another orgasm crests over you, making you tremble and quake and scream. He relishes your final squeezes, letting your cunt and ass suction around his cocks until he’s milked dry. 

“I fucking love whores.” Just because he can, he pushes his hand into your bulging belly, laughing as cum gushes from where your pussy is cinched around his shaft. You whimper, twisting against the hands holding your thighs open. 

“No no no,” he wags a finger at you, “I still haven’t had dessert.”

He wonders if he’ll be able to stop himself from sinking his teeth into the delicate, syrupy folds of your cunt. Depends on just how good you taste.

[woahjo]

The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

The world fell apart almost a year ago and you refused to go with it. Left alone and to your own devices in a world full of monsters, where the dead come back to life, you believe that maybe surviving isn't living.

When Katsuki finds you alone in the woods and on the precipice of collapsing from exhaustion, he decides to bring you back to the house his group calls home. Against your better judgement and hesitancy to become attached, you decide to stay. In this world, everyone has lost someone. No soul is spared the violence, and you start sleeping with Bakugou Katsuki to dull the ache. Somehow, peace finds you anyway, but not without sacrifice.

Chapter Content Warnings:  fem!reader, gender neutral pronouns, strangers to lovers, violence typical of zombies, blood, gore, romance, slow-ish burn (for the emotional stuff), angst, kissin', questions of identity, loss, grief, graphic depictions of death and/or violence, mentions and descriptions of starvation/exhaustion typical of an apocalypse setting, very slight implications of possible sexual violence typical of an apocalypse setting, derealization, depersonalization, weapons (guns, blades, and traps), loss of identity

All content warnings can be found on ao3 with the rest of the series.

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

A/N: it's finally done... i'm sweating. i screamed. i cried. i bled. you know the drill. i am posting this a little differently than my other fics and series. only the first chapter will be posted here on tumblr (this post), with the rest of it broken up into chapters and posted on ao3.. purely because it was originally meant as a one shot and i don't like posting chapters on tumblr. it's not built for that and im tired. anyway, im nervous this is my new baby and im pretty sure my soul is somewhere in here. if u read this, pls come tell me what you think.. it fuels me. enjoy, cry, sweat, or whatever else you do when you read. as always, thank you and i love you.

Two hundred and seventy six. It’s been two hundred and seventy six days since the world completely went to shit. You don’t really count the initial outbreak. The initial outbreak was relatively contained once people found out about it. You quarantined. You stayed inside. All it really took were a handful of idiots. Someone selfish. Someone who panicked and ran instead of facing the world honorably, and that was it. It only took days to lose almost every semblance of a normal life and a week to lose everything else. 

The light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. The chair is from a friend, someone you’re not with anymore and who went somewhere you couldn’t follow, and you've got a metal spatula in your hand. You're not sure why you grabbed it when you fled, but panic does weird things to the mind. You absentmindedly wonder why you’ve brought it along with you all this time. There’s no logical reason for you to tote the thing around. A friend had told you how strange it was that you thought to toss it into your bag and continue carrying it. This, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. Everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost. 

Maybe it’s because the spatula is somewhat normal, like somehow when you cook the game on your makeshift tin over your shitty fire, you can pretend you’re in your kitchen. A smash burger sounds good right now, with grilled onions on a brioche bun like the ones from the place by your apartment. 

The night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. Well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire. 

It’s easy to miss the noise that used to irritate you when the world goes quiet. You used to hate the sounds and lights of passing trucks when they’d cross on the street below your apartment window. Now, you’d do anything for the familiar comfort. The world is so dark and quiet, like it’s holding its breath and waiting for this to be over. The silence is almost too much, so loud that it hurts your ears. You huddle closer to the fire, craving its quiet sound. Focusing on it lessens the anxiety of the other noises. The ones you don’t want to hear. 

Your head is on a swivel. It has been for months. Ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. A paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. You swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters. 

A branch cracks just behind you. A swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. You stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a figure a few feet away from you. They move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. Their eyes, most importantly. You can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes and the sounds that their joints make. In this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell. 

You make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a flashlight directly into your face. You squint, panic in your veins as your eyes adjust as best they can to the sudden assault. It takes you a moment to realize that there is a gun pointed directly at your forehead. The living. This person is alive. You're not sure yet if encountering one of the dead would have been worse. 

"Shut up and drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. It's aggressive and threatening. It comes from deep in his chest, like somehow fear has gripped and mutilated it into something violent. 

You raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut in the beam of the flashlight. 

"It's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "It's a spatula. It's a spatula." 

The words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. The flashlight turns off, sending you back into the dark. Your eyes fight to adjust, catching the firelight that glints off of the barrel, and you begin to makeout the man’s features. He's big, blonde under the grime, you think. A man, not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these. 

You see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. You drop it quickly, hoping to appeal to his humanity. 

"Do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent. 

You shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair, choking out the word “ground”. There's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. You're a poor shot and you had run out of ammo the previous week. He glances at it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab the two items. When he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon and you start to lower your trembling hands. 

Then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"The fuck are you doing lighting a fire this late?" he says angrily, opening the clip of your pistol. "And with no fucking bullets. Those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. That's a good way to get yourself killed." 

He stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs. 

"I didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him. 

"And that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. You wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you. 

"What do you want?" you snap, "My food? Weapons? Life? What is it?" 

The man scoffs, "Jesus, none of that. I don’t want your shit." 

You narrow your eyes and take a step back. One thing this world has done is remove trust from every chance encounter, and that was already hard enough when the place was sane. 

"Not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "But I sure as shit didn't expect to find someone like you alone lighting a damn fire. Stupid." 

"There were others," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "Force of habit, I guess." 

The man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. It's a relatable feeling. Everyone has lost someone now. 

"Got a name?" he asks. 

You hesitate in giving it to him and the pause causes him to roll his eyes. “You want me to call you Idiot-with-no-bullets instead?” 

You give him your name and the man nods as if he likes the sound of it, turning it over in his head before inhaling. 

"I'm Katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "You're alone?" 

You nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat. 

"Wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. Now, I am." 

He nods his understanding. 

"Come with me." 

"Where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. Katsuki looks at you as if you’re stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. Probably both. 

"Where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "We've got a camp a little ways from here. I saw your fire from the watch post we have stationed." 

You look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you. Kindness, especially the selfless type, is so rare now and you find it difficult to believe that he’s willing to take you there at no cost. 

He scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "Look, we've got men and women," then he pauses. "Used to have children. We're not gonna hurt you. World's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?" 

He's probably right. You've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of rest is far too tempting. You nod and glance back to your camp. A measly collection of supplies haphazardly put together. You suppose that it doesn’t look so promising. 

"We'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than I have to." 

"Okay," you say. The presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the press of fatigue even more. A gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? You must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "Do you take in a lot of strays?" 

Katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase. 

"If that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. Then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "I'm sure the others won't mind one more."

You nod a little and follow him through the wood, stepping over obstacles. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you feel unsteady on your feet. Everything you’ve ever learned about this world tells you that maybe you shouldn’t go with him. What if they’re dangerous? It’s easy to lie about women and children, about a community that doesn’t exist. Or worse, it’s easy to fool yourself that where you are is good, but you don’t know yet if he’s the type to delude himself. He doesn’t seem it. 

The two of you walk for what feels like forever, even if it is only a little over half a mile. Your feet have been aching for days and every step you take feels like a blade into the heel. Katsuki seems steady, his gun secured at his hip and a large knife in his dominant hand. He doesn’t have the flashlight out, but he seems sure-footed and takes every step in stride, as if he’s too heavy to be swayed by any missed step. 

As you move, you can barely make out his back in the white tank top he wears. You use it as a landmark, following the glowing white as it catches the light from the moon. Like chasing a ghost through the trees. 

Then, the wood eases up. The trees grow sparse and the suffocating humidity of the forest eases into a more breathable, open-air breeze. Katsuki steps out into a clearing. It’s relatively small, for how large the world is, but it’s some of the most open space you’ve seen in a while. The feeling of stepping out into the tall grass, where you’re both visible to any wandering thing, sends a rush of fear through you. 

By the edge of the clearing, there’s a small house with a short steeple. It almost looks like a Christian church, but you get the sense that it’s likely a barn. That must be the watchtower and you wonder just how good the view of the forest is from up there if Katsuki managed to see the light of your fire. How many other people had seen your fires over the weeks and not made it out to confront you? How close had you come before to safety or annihilation? 

"Hey!" a girl's voice calls. "He's back!" 

In the near distance, you can see a large and dimly lit house. It looks a little worn down, but soft and hardly noticeable light emanates from it in a way that makes it seem inviting.You can’t make out its exact silhouette and night blurs just how broken-down it is, but you can tell that people live there in the same way you can tell when someone has just left a room. 

Someone runs across the field to you both. It looks like a man and a woman, maybe around Katsuki's age. They move quickly through the tall grass and for a moment, the urgency that they move with frightens you. You worry that your presence will ignite some protective sort of panic. You linger back, letting Katsuki grow a little farther from you as they call out to him. 

“Yeah, yeah," he half-shouts, no longer seeming to care about keeping quiet. Guess that's what happens when there's a group. "I found the fire I mentioned." 

The two come to a stop in front of him, resting their hands on their hips as they catch the breath they lost. 

"We started to get a little worried," says the girl. She's pretty, with big eyes and curly hair that looks like it probably used to be dyed. "You've been gone for a while." 

"Well, I'm back," he says. 

"And you brought a friend," the other man says, sounding shocked. His tone is noticeably kind. The boisterous type of kind and when he smiles, you can see that he has sharp canines. His hair is straight, sticking out in different directions, and tinged with red in this light.

"More like an acquaintance," Katsuki says. “I found them in the woods with a fire and an empty clip. Felt like their blood would be on my hands if I didn’t bring them back.” The red-haired man gives him a telling look and Katsuki scoffs in response and turns to the girl. "Get them settled, Mina, will you?" The girl called Mina nods and Katsuki takes off toward the house without another word. 

"You're lucky," she says, pausing when you flinch as she steps closer. "You're gettin' the last solo room in the place. Kirishima, is it set up?" 

Kirishima shrugs his shoulders. "You'd have to ask Izuku. He'd know all about that, but I can go check." 

Mina shakes her head and turns her attention to you, giving you a quick once over with her eyebrows pulled together.

"You must be tired.” 

When you nod, she gives you an empathetic smile and motions for you to come with her. "We'll fix that. You hungry?" 

"What do you think?" you manage, saliva pooling in your mouth. "Do you have food?" 

"Plenty," she smiles. "not quite enough for leftovers just yet though, don’t tell anyone." 

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell? 

"Sounds like a good deal," you say. 

You follow Mina up to the house. Around it, there are a few parked cars. They look like they could pull out at any moment, and through the dust covered windows, you can just make out supplies in the back seats as you pass. In the distance, you can see the fuzzy silhouette of the barn you’d assumed was a watchtower in the dark of the field and you figure that maybe it used to be a place to keep livestock. 

Mina doesn't say much to you as you pass through the field, and when you walk into the door, the first thing you notice is a large group of people seated at a dining table. They all look up at you when you enter and it's with a bit of shock that you register their faces as healthy. Well, healthier. These people live well. Something stirs in your chest, both anxiety and excitement at the thought of possibly having found somewhere safe. They blink at you for a moment, exchanging looks that all end up landing on Katsuki. 

"This is the group. Well, most of us," Mina says pleasantly and with a light huff. "That's Izuku, Denki, Ochako, Sero, and you already know the handsome guy on the end there. Kiri's probably checking to see if the room is half decent.." They all greet you with a glad murmur. "Group, this is..." 

She looks at you expectantly. When you tell them your name, you can't help but look at Katsuki who already knows it. He raises his eyebrows unconsciously and turns his attention to the glass in front of him. 

There’s an awkward pause as you stand in the doorway, suddenly conscious of just how dirty you must look. Remnants of an older world, you suppose. No one really worries about things like that anymore.

“Uhm…” you search for something to say, but your people skills seem to have left you. 

“You’re okay,” Mina says lightly. “Plenty of time to get to know you when you’ve rested and had something to eat.” 

Mina sits you down at a chair that she pulls in from the other room. It doesn't match the other ones in the dining room, but you suppose no one is really thinking of the decor in their house anymore. It's only now that you realize the house has electricity.

"You have power?" you say incredulously, looking at the center light in the dining room on its low setting. 

"Mhm," Mina hums as she sits down next to you and spoons a helping of vegetables onto your plate. "It's got a generator. We got lucky finding this place. I don't think many of us would be alive if we hadn't." 

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation. 

"It draws from well water too," she adds. "With the right care, the place practically runs on its own. Hard work but what isn't nowadays?" 

“Like you do any of the heavy lifting," Sero scoffs across from her.

"That's not fair," Katsuki adds with a slick smirk, "you know damn well none of our vegetables would be so well socialized if she didn't use them like a damn diary all day." 

The group laughs a little and Mina rolls her eyes and sits back in the chair. You avoid looking at anyone, shoveling the food into your mouth. You’re salivating an almost embarrassing amount, struggling to eat at a normal pace. There’s something about food cooked inside, about the way food tastes when you can smell it wafting in from the kitchen. 

"Don't worry," she turns to you, as if you’re at all concerned with the implication that she doesn’t do much work, "they know we’d hardly have vegetables at all if it weren't my job to tend them. I used to garden quite a bit before all of this." 

Sero tosses her a sideways glance and you get the sense that maybe it isn’t just her doing it. 

"Mina does a lot of the garden stuff," Ochako pitches in, her voice hesitant. "We all sort of just do what we can." 

You can’t really keep up with the conversation and instead just blink at her for a moment before turning back to your food. Maybe that’s rude, but you don’t have the energy to consider it. There’s food in front of you. Food that doesn’t taste like it’s been poorly slaughtered or rotting in a cabinet for months. 

The group at the table with you shifts back into what you feel is their normal conversation and you watch them through your peripheral. You can’t relax yet, maybe you never will. Always on watch with your guard up. 

They pass the dishes around the table, plates going from hand to hand over mismatched sets of silverware. The action feels strange to you. Your chest squeezes at the thought. Just a few weeks ago, you’d done this around a fire with the people you loved. You’d passed a too-hot-to-touch pot around a circle of friends, laughing quietly at the little moments of joy you could find. It feels far away now and jealousy rouses beside hope as you sit. 

“So, where did you come from?” Izuku at the end of the table asks. 

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you and there’s an edge to his voice that has everyone at the table sitting up with curiosity. You stare at him for a moment, exhausted and defeated and unable to muster the words. 

“Leave them be,” Katsuki says, looking up from his plate. “They just got here. They’re probably freaked out.” 

The table goes a little quiet, a hush falling over it. You look around as glances are exchanged before Mina stands up quickly and quietly claps her hands together. 

“I think,” she says with an awkward laugh, “it may be time for bed.” 

Mina turns to you. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.” 

You nod, standing up and turning to the group with furrowed eyebrows. You want to thank them, to tell them that you’re grateful for the meal and their kindness, but the words don’t come. Instead, you meet Katsuki’s gaze, grateful for the intervention, but suspicious at such forthcoming kindness. He scoffs a little and turns away. 

—

“It’s just up here,” Mina says as she guides you through the house.

You pass rooms with their doors ajar. They are lived in, with unmade beds and glasses of clean water on nightstands. It’s like something out of a life gone by, with a few less amenities. You can imagine a family moving through this house. Girls in school uniforms calling through the halls about a stolen hair clip. Now, you picture these people doing that. Living and not just surviving.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” she says. “You can take a shower if you want. I’ll leave a towel and some clothes in there just in case.”  

You nod. 

“No worries if you don’t,” Mina adds in a whisper. “When I first met everyone, I didn’t undress to bathe for days so… take your time. We won’t be offended.” 

She shuts the door behind her when she leaves and you stumble back onto the bed, shocked by just how soft it feels after spending weeks on the floor. It’s not much, but it’s nicer than anything you’ve experienced in the last nine months, and there's a working shower. You haven’t had a shower since everything fell apart and the layer of grime on your skin is so thick that you can feel it. You haven’t felt safe enough to properly wash since you’d lost the rest of your group, only stopping to rinse your body in streams you pass if the thought occurred to you. The idea of running water and a shower is near euphoric. 

You probably shouldn’t. It may not be wise to shower tonight. You still don’t know these people or what they’re capable of, but the temptation of being clean is too great and as soon as you hear Mina close the bathroom door and walk away, you hurry across the hall on the balls of your feet. 

The bathroom looks old and the sink is white porcelain, eggshell now with a lack of care. The shower has a bathtub in it and though it’s cloudy, there’s a mirror over the sink where you catch the first clear glimpse you’ve had of yourself in weeks. 

You don’t know who you’re looking at. The person in the mirror is nearly unrecognizable. Their eyes are wide and frightened, wild like an animal’s, and their face is covered in a layer of grime that looks like it can never be washed out. Their hair is unruly, sticking out in some areas and matted down with blood in others. This is a person you’ve never seen or met before. Someone you would have avoided only a year ago if you’d ever encountered them. 

You reach up to touch your face, running your hand over the dried blood that has made a home on the underside of your jaw. How long has it been there? Have you always looked so unwell? So sick in mind and body? The promise of a shower grows unbearably pleasant. 

The knob squeaks when you turn it, screeching as the pipes hum and clang to life. Water spits out in a few bursts before raining down from the faucet and hitting the back of the tub in a steady thrum. It sounds a little bit like music to you, constant and heavy, and it gives the impression of normalcy as you begin undressing. 

The fabric of your clothes sticks to your skin, peeling from your body in an unbearable and disgusting way. You don’t look at your body in the mirror. In fact, you avoid it entirely. Not recognizing your face was enough, but your body—a part of yourself you never really recognized—would drive you over the edge. 

Then, you pull the shower curtain back and stick your hand under the water, stepping into it fully with a deep sigh. The water is lukewarm. They probably turned off the heater to conserve power and allow the main generator to function for longer. That’s fine. Beggars can’t be choosers and everyone is a beggar nowadays. Besides, it’s warm enough outside that the water isn’t too cold as it is. In the winter, you probably wouldn’t be able to shower and the pipes might freeze entirely until the following spring. 

There’s a normalcy that you settle into as you wash your body. You return to muscle memory, running your hands over your skin and scrubbing the grime out. It’s simultaneously like the first shower of your life and as if you’ve been doing it every day. You return to a state of pleasant, familiar humanity as you wash away dirt that has built up for weeks. You feel as it pours off of you, see it run down your body onto the porcelain of the tub and swirl down the drain. It’s dirt and dried blood that has been caked onto your skin. You worry that even after washing, it will leave a permanent mark. 

The person in the mirror when you get out of the shower is in stark contrast to the person who went into it. They’re someone that you recognize. You could almost convince yourself that nothing ever changed. Your water-soaked skin is so familiar to you, that you could be getting out of the shower and dressing to go to work. If it weren’t for the look in your eyes, you could have fooled yourself. Something undefinable has changed in you, something that you will carry with you forever. You glance at yourself in the foggy mirror and think that there is no going back. 

The house is quiet when you dry yourself and open the bathroom door. You step across the hall on the balls of your feet, careful not to make any noise, and when you push the bedroom door open, you do a visual sweep to make sure that it’s safe out of habit. 

Your body is exhausted. You are so thoroughly tired that you think you could collapse at any moment, but when you sit down on the bed in your fresh clothes, you find yourself restless. This place is new to you and you’re unsure if the safe feeling is your mind playing desperate tricks on you or the real thing. The lamp by your bed is on, casting a yellow glow across the bedsheets and the dark wood furniture. Come to think of it, you didn’t get a good look at the house when you came in and the thought starts to bother you as you stare at the closed door to the hallway. 

Someone could be behind it. They could be waiting for you to lay down, to sleep, before doing something awful. You almost feel guilty for thinking this way about them. They’ve fed you, given you a shower, given you fresh clothes. Luxuries you weren’t sure even existed anymore, yet you’re sitting here doubting them, wishing you had your pistol or knife.

The bedroom door creaks as you open it. You wince, nervous that you’ve disturbed the quiet peace of the house and that everything will come crashing down as quickly as it seemed to come together. The hallway is dark, save for some light coming from under two doors at the end of the hall. One of them turns out as you creep past it to the stairs, and you hear the distinct sound of box springs squeaking as someone crawls into bed. You let go of the breath you’d been holding, straightening up as you relax into the late-night environment. 

The house looks old even from the inside. It gives the impression of having once been dirty and in near disrepair. There are dust stains and dull spots that no amount of scrubbing could get out. You can almost picture how this place may have looked when they found it and it’s entirely possible that it had been abandoned before the actual outbreak. Someone run out of their home for lack of money. What a trivial thing now. 

The stairs are sturdy, probably held together so well by the foundation of the house, and they’re made of dark wood. They’re steep too, the kind that a baby or old person might trip over, and you hold the railing to calm the shaking of your legs as you slowly feel your way down. You can see the light on in the kitchen from around the corner, spreading out onto the floor of the old fashioned drawing room. Dishes clink in the kitchen, like someone is washing them, and you jump a little at the noise as you creep around the corner. 

Kirishima is standing at the sink with his back to you, whispering something to someone beside him. The expanse of his back is broad, moving every time he goes to run his hand over the dish in front of him. Then, he turns to look at you and you see Mina pop her head around the corner. 

“Oh,” Kiri says, “did you need something?” 

You shake your head. “Not really, I just couldn’t sleep.” 

Kiri nods sympathetically as if he knows the feeling. “Well, you look like you feel a little better at least.” 

You pad over to where he’s doing the dishes and Mina offers you a soft smile and a knowing look. It all seems so normal. Doing the dishes, whispering quietly as they do. Something about it screams a kind of humanity you haven’t experienced in a long while, even with your last group. 

“Are you sure we can’t get you something?” Mina says, furrowing her brows. 

“Why are you all being so nice to me?” You ask. “You don’t know the first thing about me.” 

“Is there some reason why we shouldn’t be nice to you?” Kiri says over his shoulder. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I just think it’s reckless, that’s all. I could have been anyone.” 

Kirishima and Mina exchange a look. They glance at each other, like they’re debating on saying something, and then Kiri turns and rests his palms on the back of the sink. He looks at Mina. 

“We don’t usually decide to do this so quickly,” she admits. “We’re friendly, but nobody’s that friendly anymore.” 

Kiri nods his agreement and you listen quietly, trying to determine if they plan to toss you back out into the woods in the morning. 

“But, Katsuki doesn’t usually bring people in,” she continues. 

“He’s a little more closed off than the rest of us,” Kirishima adds. “He’s a good guy, just takes a while to warm up, is all.” 

“Mhm,” Mina says. 

“What does that have to do with me?” you ask. “This is nice and all, but I’m sure you get why I’m wary.” 

“He’s a good judge of character,” Kiri adds earnestly. “He doesn’t bring people in often, but when he does, he’s usually right.” 

You nod, not quite understanding. Sure, you don’t plan to do anything terrible. In fact, you’re content to accept their kindness and stay, if they’d let you. Anything is better than being alone, but their blind trust in one man’s judgment of character makes you uneasy. 

“He was alone for a really long time,” Mina adds. “A lot of us were. I got lucky meeting Kirishima early on, but Katsuki’s luck was a little less fortuitous.” 

“So you all just… happened upon each other by chance?” You ask. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mina says. “It was me and Kiri for a long time. Just the two of us. We’d found Izuku and Katsuki together a while later, but they didn’t seem to like each other all that much. We still haven’t really figured that out, especially because they’re so close now. Ochako and Sero ended up cornered together by accident. We found them just before we found this place, and Denki just sort of showed up here one day and promised to fix the generator in exchange for safety. That was months ago. We’ve been like this since.”

“So you’re all strays,” you say and Mina laughs a little and looks at Kiri. 

“Sure,” she says. “We’re all strays. There were others too. Shoji. Jirou. She was Denki’s girlfriend.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown. It feels pointless to apologize for the dead, if you get caught up in it, you’d be apologizing forever. 

“Don’t be,” Kiri adds. “But best not to bring her up. It was pretty recent and Denki’s only just started to get over it.” 

You swallow thick and nod a little. 

“Anyway,” Mina says, “we can’t really explain it. We just trust him. We trust Katsuki. That’s all.” 

“Hm,” you hum, understanding that to a degree. 

You trusted the people in your group. If they believed in someone, you were willing to as well, so you suppose you can understand a little where they’re coming from. 

“What are you talking about,” Katsuki rounds the corner, walking into the kitchen and putting his water bottle under the sink. 

“Nothing really,” Mina says. 

Katsuki furrows his eyebrows and then looks at you. He gives you a once over, taking in your new clothing before scoffing lightly. 

“Don’t you look cozy,” he says. “You get settled?” 

“When can I go get my stuff?” You ask. 

“Someone’s eager,” he says through lightly gritted teeth. “Didn’t I tell ya we could go in the morning? Besides, what’s there really to miss in that lot of junk?” 

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides. 

“I have things I care about there,” you say. “Things I’m not ready to lose.” 

Katsuki blinks at you for a second before swearing under his breath. “We’ll leave when you get up in the morning.” 

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say, frowning a bit at his sour attitude. 

“Like hell,” he scoffs. “What if the dead are waiting back there for you?” 

“I made it this far on my own,” you respond. 

Katsuki nods for a second. “I’m going. Come find me in the morning.” 

He walks off and around the corner. You hear him go up the stairs, followed by the distinct click of a bedroom door shutting. 

“Don’t pay too much attention to that,” Mina says. “It’s past his bedtime.” 

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds. 

“Right,” you say, swallowing down your frustration in favor of trying to be appreciative of the help. You sway on your feet a little and then steady yourself. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you for the meal and the bed.” 

Mina and Kiri nod, but you don’t stick around to hear a response. Fatigue creeps up on you. It ambushes your senses and you go from feeling dream-like to delusional in a matter of moments. You make your way up the stairs, your body feeling heavy as lead, and wobble your way into the bedroom they’re letting you stay in. 

When your head hits the pillow, you’re out. The world around you fades to dark and just before you sleep, you swear that you can hear the sounds of cars passing on the highway. A busy night, Saturday maybe, and people go about their daily lives outside of the window the way that they always have. They live, never the wiser to just how quickly things fall apart and how little it takes for our humanity to leave us. 

— 

Mornings in this place are boisterous. The sun coming through the lone window in your room wakes you up and you can hear the calls of busy people getting to work outside. There are voices from the porch out front that your window looks over and though you can’t see them, you get the sense that they’re having a pleasant conversation. 

As you rouse, you come to the realization of just how exhausted you’d really been. They probably saved your life by bringing you to this place, feeding you, and offering you a bed. In hindsight, it’s easy to see just how little you had left in you. You get the sense now that you’d been running on an empty tank for days, slowly coming to an inglorious, gruesome, sputtering stop. 

Things seem a little clearer, like the sunlight is somehow less bleak than it had been the days previous and you feel a little bit like you have a new lease on life. There are no big emotions, no swells of hope or humanity just yet, and you dread the moment you are rested enough to let grief consume you. Right now, you can’t feel it, but there is a fear in you that as you get to know these people who live relatively beautifully in an ugly world, it will weigh you down so much that you’ll never be able to outrun it. 

You wonder if they’ll let you stay. They very well may not, even with the way they were talking last night. Strangers are more dangerous than they’ve ever been and if they ask you whether or not you’ve killed someone, you refuse to lie to them. Sitting up on the bed, you mull over the very real possibility that you could be back out there on your own again in a matter of days and you don’t even have that many good acts under your belt to plead your case. You’re just a person and you’ve done what you needed to in order to survive. Now, you’re not sure if that’s enough. 

You swallow thick, wandering over to the mirror on the dresser. It’s fogged, though less than the bathroom mirror, and you can make out your features a little better than you could last night. You feel a bit more sane, though you still don’t recognize the frightful and distrustful look in your eyes. Like a wounded animal. Inside your head, you acknowledge that you are completely different from the person you were two hundred and seventy seven days ago. 

The voices grow louder as you climb down the stairs, more secure on your feet than you felt last night. You can hear them talking about the generator, as well as a name you don’t recognize. 

“He should be back by now,” a woman says. “Shoto’s never gone longer than a day or two, max.” 

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” another woman says with a worried bite in her voice. Mina, maybe? “We’re only a few hours into the day. He probably got holed up somewhere.” 

“Someone needs to go look for him,” a man says.

“And what? Risk getting yourself killed?” the first woman says. “No, it doesn’t make sense. We need you here.” 

“You’d rather we leave him to die on his own?” 

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.” 

You recognize Katsuki’s voice. 

“He’s perfectly capable of going on a gasoline run,” he continues. “He’s done it before.” 

“I should have gone with him,” says the same woman. 

“On that leg? You wouldn’t have made it halfway to town, let alone there and back,” his voice raises a little. “Don’t be stupid. He’ll be back.” 

You clear your throat and step around the corner. The group turns to face you quickly at the sound, their eyes wide for a moment before relaxing. You can’t sneak up on anyone nowadays. 

“Sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Is everything okay?” 

It’s not your business, but you ask anyway, wondering for yourself about the safety of Shoto. 

“Fine,” Izuku says, shaking his head. You recognize him to be the one who'd vouched for going after their friend. Katsuki takes a step away from the broad man as he says this. “Nothing for you to worry about. Did you rest?” 

Izuku smiles gently at you, his chest inflating a little at the question. The movement broadens his shoulders and you realize that he stands almost a head taller than Katsuki. You look briefly between the two of them before nodding. 

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.” 

“Nothing wrong with a little hospitality now and then,” he smiles and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the distinct hesitance in his voice. 

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the woman standing across from Izuku says. “I’m Momo. Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you last night. I’ve been a little under the weather.” 

You introduce yourself to her and glance down at her leg. Her ankle is swollen and wrapped in a bandage. Her sneaker laces are untied at the top to make room for the swelling and you can see that she’s guarding that side of her leg. 

“Is it…?” you grimace, taking an instinctive step away from her. You almost feel bad for it, but sometimes good people make bad decisions when loved ones get bit. 

“No,” she says quickly, “no, it isn’t. Caught an edge in an old chain link fence on the property a couple days back.” 

Momo smiles slightly at you as if to reassure you. She’s really beautiful, with thick dark hair pulled back into a somewhat messy ponytail. Her eyes are bright, like she’s engaged in lively conversation, and you find yourself feeling a little sad for her. She’ll need medicine soon, if they can get it. Infections set in easily these days and you get the sense that even she knows that she may not have long without it. Maybe that’s something else their friend Shoto set out to find. 

“I assume you’ll be wanting to go get your supplies?” Katsuki says, cutting the conversation short. Maybe he could sense the sour turn of thoughts. 

“Ready when you are,” you respond with a nod. 

Katsuki glances at Izuku, who gives him a slightly disapproving look. 

“Someone get them something to eat,” Katsuki says. “...I’ll get my shit ready.” 

“Fig jam…” Mina mumbles as she motions for you to follow her to the kitchen. 

You oblige her, not exactly jumping to turn down a meal. She walks you into the kitchen and opens up a cabinet, where she pulls out a jar filled with a dark and seed filled paste. It’s a jam, sealed in a jar that looks older than what’s inside of it. The seal breaks open with a pleasant pop. 

“This stuff is so good,” she says to you over her shoulder, pulling out a package of crackers that have likely gone stale. “You won’t believe it.” 

She spreads the jam on a few crackers and sets it in front of you on a plate, pushing it across the counter towards you. 

“It’s fig jam,” she says with a smile. “Homemade.” 

You look down at the plate, your mouth watering at the prospect of something sweet like this. It’s been so long since you've had fresh jam. It could be as long as 10 years. You don’t think you’ve had it since you were a kid, when jam came easily and you preferred the processed brands at the supermarket to the ones your mom used to make sometimes. 

You raise the cracker to your mouth and stuff it in with little grace. The sweetness spreads across your tongue as soon as you bite into the stale cracker. It fizzes and pops almost, the sugar melting across your tongue as the seeds crack softly between your teeth. The smile that hits your face is completely involuntary and though you know that nine months ago, this jam wouldn’t have been much, today it is something extraordinary. 

Mina nods a kind of girlish agreement, like the way people used to when they had their friend try something at their favorite restaurant. 

“We got here in the fall. I want to say late October or early November?” she offers. “We were starving and there wasn’t enough food to feed all of us. By that time there were like… nine of us.” 

You listen as you eat your crackers. 

“This place was in such an awful state,” she laughs. “I mean, really terrible. But, it was big and there was a fig tree in the back. A little thing, probably only a few years old and it had fruit on it. We ate so many of them that if the world were normal, we’d have sworn off of them forever. When we realized that the house actually had some old food in it,” she interrupts herself “-nothing good, canned stuff mostly- we decided to jar up the rest of the figs so that they didn’t rot.” 

She smiles at you like it’s a pleasant memory, but you can only think about how hungry they must have been. Your stomach growls as you eat. 

“I know it doesn’t sound like much,” she says, “but for some reason it’s a really nice memory. Honestly, we’re lucky we didn’t die.” 

Mina laughs a little. 

“I mean,” she continues, “we didn’t even clear the area before we started pulling at the figs and throwing them into our mouths.” 

You tilt your head at her and furrow your eyebrows with a small smile. 

“You’re really forthcoming with information.” 

“You just seem a little hesitant, is all,” she answers. 

“Can you blame me?” 

Mina shrugs her shoulders but doesn’t really offer an answer. You assume it’s because she can’t, because Mina has the same doubts everyone carries with them in this world. All of the what ifs people would think about before they slept have become more prevalent than anyone would have ever liked. 

“The jam is good,” you say, trying to be friendly in the same way she is. “Even if it is months old.” 

“Things keep well in jars,” Mina defends softly, smiling a little as she gets another out of you. 

This place feels like a little slice of paradise. A blessing from whoever lived here before and kept a garden stocked with vegetables. From someone who lived in an old house with stables and well-water, who kept canned food past its expiration date. It feels almost too good to be true, like these people live in a bubble bound to pop. 

“You ready?” Katsuki thuds into the kitchen with an empty backpack slung over his shoulder. 

You turn, startled by his sudden appearance and nod as you quickly finish chewing the last cracker. Katsuki furrows his eyebrows as he watches the way you scarf it down. 

When you stand from the table, Katsuki turns on his heel to make for the front door and you follow with a light step. Mina says something about staying safe, but you don’t respond, glancing once over your shoulder at the girl. 

It’s strange, the world has made you wishy-washy and uncommitted. You never used to be like that, never so distrusting as to second guess someone’s kindness the moment your back is turned to them, and you’re certainly not the type to be friendly one moment and closed off the next. Now though, you find that doubt creeps in easily through cracks and any foundation that didn’t exist before, seems to be swallowed before you can finish building it. 

Katsuki leads you back across the small clearing you’d come through the night before. It looks different in the day, almost romantic, and it lacks any of the ominous feeling it had the previous evening. He steps over mounds in the dirt from moles and gophers that have made lawns their new home and you try to mimic his steps, sinking occasionally into a particularly soft patch of dirt. Every now and then, Katsuki glances behind him to check that you’re still there and you offer him a forced smile that he never returns.

You catch up to him when you hit the trees, sticking close at his side like something will come and take you away if you’re not. It’s unintentional, but you don’t have a weapon on you. Your knife is back at your makeshift camp, along with the unloaded pistol and your trusty spatula. 

“How do you know where we’re going?” You ask in a whisper. 

Katsuki tosses a look at you over his shoulder. “I’m good with directions.” 

His tone is clipped, like he’s pissed about something, and your expression sours at it. Sure, you get it but it irritates you to some small degree. You hadn’t asked him to come along. In fact, you’d have been fine getting back here to collect your stuff on your own. You’d have asked for a knife and set out without a second thought, if only because being alone in the woods with some guy was less preferable than doing it by yourself. Of course, some guy also probably saved your life, but you’re not quite ready to relinquish your trust completely. 

“Thanks for coming,” you decide. A peace offering. 

Katsuki doesn’t answer and you furrow your brows a little bit. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if the end of the world brought on the loss of his manners. 

Then, he stops, taking you by the arm and pulling you down beside a bush. You gasp and he puts his hand over your mouth to silence you. There’s the urge to bite him, to catch the fleshy bit connecting his thumb and pointer finger between your teeth and bite down till he bleeds, but you stop when you catch what he’s looking at. 

Two of the living dead crouch by a tree, clicking their tongues as they eat something just out of sight. You furrow your eyebrows, eyes widening at the horror of it. For some reason, seeing them always brings about a round of momentary shock. You’ve yet to let go of the hounding thought that they used to be people and sometimes have to reorient yourself to the world you’re in now. 

You catch Katsuki’s eye behind you, his calloused hand still clasped over your mouth, and nod your head. It’s a silent communication that you’ve seen what he has and he removes his palm from your face to grab a knife tucked into his belt, passing it to you quickly. 

The two infected haven’t noticed the two of you yet, but they will soon, if only by the smell of your flesh which has yet to rot. You hear Katsuki let out a breath, as if to calm his heart, and do the same. There’s time to look at them like this and you’re struck by how human you can pretend they are in your head. Well, you suppose they were human once, now they’re a disease using someone’s skin as a mask. 

Infected people aren’t quick, that’s one thing to be grateful for. Back when the outbreak first started, the CDC had released information on what to look out for in those who might have contracted the virus. The first was obviously a bite wound from another infected person, but you can tell from other symptoms. Early symptoms are average. Body aches, fever, lethargy, and delirium. All things you might see with a nasty flu. Then, infection of the wound site, twitching, foggy eyes—like low-grade cataracts—that develop within a matter of hours or days, severe disorientation, aversion to food, insomnia, with the final symptom being a coma that no one ever wakes up as themselves from. 

These are the symptoms that people are conscious for. The ones they feel. The sickness that people tried to nurse others back from. There is no coming back though, not alive at the very least. The virus attacks the nerves throughout the brain and body, that’s what causes the twitching and convulsions. It’s what ultimately kills us, and it's what they think causes the bodies to come back. 

Most infected will crack when they move. It’s the cartilage breaking down as the bones grind together and crack as they’re weakened from the marrow out. They twitch like rabid animals, unable to keep masterful control of their bodies because they are run like puppets from the brain stem. You don’t know if they think. If somehow the people they used to be are still in there, unable to stop themselves from consuming and spreading the virus to others. All you really know is that they twitch and click, functions of the brain that still remain. Tiny impulses sent through the synapses. You imagine it to be like the way you twitch when you sleep, an arm here or a leg there, the way someone might call out with their voice to a room with no one in it. 

Maybe the infected think they’re dreaming. A nightmare that they never wake up from, like those of us who have to put them down. You could see it as a mercy from that perspective. You have an easier time rationalizing putting a knife in someone’s skull if you convince yourself that they’re silently begging for it. 

Katsuki shifts his weight and looks at you. He mouths the words no guns and you nod, briefly wondering where the fuck he thinks you could have gotten a gun from. 

Then, you kick off and run with Katsuki towards the infected. They don’t really have time to begin moving towards you both. You’re faster than them, but you hear the crack of their legs as they stand from their crouched positions, pulled in at the idea of their next meal.

Katsuki takes the farther one, sinking the knife into the soft spot of its temple with relative ease. You switch yourself off and take the one closest only a few moments later, sending your blade through the top of its skull. That happens to you when you have to do this. You turn yourself off for a bit, just so that you don’t have to remember the way it feels to hit the soft part of someone’s brain. You didn’t used to do that, only starting when you realized that there’s no going through this world anymore without it. 

Katsuki wipes the blood on his pants. It’s brown, no longer oxygenated, and the area around you begins to reek. You notice, but for some reason the smell of decomposition doesn’t register in your brain and you continue on behind him. 

There are a few beats of silence, save for twigs breaking under your feet, before Katsuki speaks up. 

“You okay?” It’s barely above a whisper and you wouldn’t have caught it were you not listening for the distinctive crack of human bones. 

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward. 

The campsite rounds into view and in this light, with your full night’s sleep under your belt, you can see just how pitiful it looks. A tent that you’d hastily put up before nightfall, the remains of your stamped out fire, the folding chair which has since been knocked over, and your weapons on the floor covered by a few leaves disturbed by the wind. 

You snatch them up and move to grab your backpack out of the tent. The inside is shitty too and your torn sleeping bag hadn’t even been rolled out yet. You pick up the bag, returning to the folding chair as Katsuki begins to take down the tent. The polyester and nylon blend zips together as he makes quick work of folding it. Then, he kicks some dry brush over the remains of the fire, like he’s covering your tracks. 

“The next person that comes through here might not be alone,” he says plainly. “And they may have more bullets than you did.” 

“Right,” you respond. Your voice sounds a little far off and you settle your backpack on your shoulder in one quick motion. 

“Got everything?” 

You nod, following him as he heads out in the direction you both came from. The two of you pass the bodies of the infected you’d killed. The smell has permeated the air, lingering like how it does in cities, only less pungent. Their fogged eyes stare blankly at nothing, expressions plain and unreadable. You pass and try not to think much about it. 

Katsuki is a few feet ahead of you and he doesn’t glance back to make sure you’re following. You could leave now and never get attached to these people. You could head off in another direction and never have to think twice about it. No more worrying about who you could lose, about who’s next to become one of the sick masses. Just you by yourself. Then, when you finally kick the can, someone else can put you down the way you did to those strangers. 

Is there really a point to it anymore? To community or living in general. No one is as they once were. Does that make it fantasy to live in their beautiful bubble? Could you even find it in yourself to pretend again, to make nice and play house in that place? They saved your life, sure. They fed you, clothed you, bathed you, but for what point? Tomorrow, you could end up back in the woods, lighting fires with twigs you found in the brush, paranoid that someone would find you or the fire would spread. 

You watch Katsuki’s back as he moves, shoulders shifting with each step. His shirt is stained, white turned eggshell from the wear and tear of time. It seems so off to you that he looks relatively clean, like he lives well. 

Fear strikes you as you realize that your rambling thoughts have merit. Anything you fear now has become real and loss is so tangible to you that you can squeeze it in your hand. They could turn you out. Tomorrow night you could begin the starve and step all over again, moving from place to place, talking to yourself, filling your hours with paranoid thoughts like these that plague you when you’re alone. Is that worse than loss? If you’re alone long enough, you’d probably forget what you’re missing. Losing anyone else could make the wound fresh. For now, the hunger wins out. 

Katsuki jogs ahead of you to get to the house. Momo is on the porch waving him in and he hurries up the steps and bursts through the front door. As you approach, you can hear voices, some of which are relieved, others hurried. When you enter the room, you find a man standing there whom you’ve never seen before, Shoto maybe. 

“A plus one,” the man looks up, tilting his head at you in an odd way. 

“Katsuki’s,” Kiri says with a low smirk. 

Shoto’s eyes widen as he peers at his friend, clutching what looks like an injured shoulder. Katsuki just huffs his irritation. 

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says. 

“What’s rare?” Katsuki spits. “They were in the woods with a fire. What was I supposed to do? Let ‘em die?” 

“Maybe,” Shoto says, a light smile creeping onto his features. Then, he turns to you. “What’s your name?” 

You give it to him and he nods his head, tilting it at you again. 

“How long are you staying?”

You’re not sure how to answer that question. In fact, no one is, and it feels like more of a test than it does a genuine inquiry. Kiri and Mina exchange a glance and Katsuki tosses a somewhat dirty look towards Shoto. Ochako gives Shoto a knowing glance and Sero and Denki shift uncomfortably on their feet. Then, Momo clears her throat, spurring Izuku to say something. 

“Shoto,” he says. “You’re probably hungry, you should eat something and lay down. Ochako? Could you take a look at his shoulder?” 

“Sure,” the girl says softly, giving a closed mouth smile to Shoto as she takes him by the arm. 

She glances at you as she passes, almost like she’s too embarrassed to look at you fully in the face. You suppose this is what happens when people are forced to think about whether or not they will potentially leave someone else to die. It’s like the trolley cart question and though in this case there is always the possibility of a better outcome, it’s not likely in this world. 

“Just until I’m rested,” you add with a small tilt of your head. “A few days.” 

Shoto looks at you over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. It’s funny, you can see kindness there. His actions aren’t kind, but you can feel that he has kindness in him, though his rudeness stems from something different than Katsuki’s, you think. Like he’s strange in some way. 

“I’ll start on dinner,” Sero says. “Kiri, give me a hand.” 

The group disperses and you head upstairs without speaking to anyone else. A few days to rest and then cut the first people you’ve spoken to in weeks loose. What sort of idiot gives up something like this to avoid a little awkwardness? Not that you necessarily had your mind made up. You wonder briefly if you’ve just sealed your own tomb. 

—

After dinner, you go upstairs to sleep after eating as much as they would offer you. Your stomach has ceased its constant growling and the shakiness that comes with hunger has receded almost entirely into the background. The bed is soft, with a slight dent in it from whoever slept in here before. The thought unsettles you that they’re probably dead now, but you try to push it from your mind as you steel yourself for what comes within the next few days. 

You had volunteered yourself to leave. To what? Save yourself the embarrassment of pleading? Did you even want to plead? Why are you regretting not asking to stay? These people don’t know you, what trust can you have built with them in only a few days? Your skin crawls at the expanse of possibilities in front of you after so many weeks without any. 

You think that if you let yourself walk away, you’ll probably die. You’re out of bullets and don’t know where to find any food except by luck. You can try to catch prey, but prey hides whenever infected are around, and they’re everywhere nowadays. It’s spring, water wouldn’t be a problem, but running water has its clear comforts. Then, there’s the possibility of loss. You’d come to care for these people if you stayed, you know it. 

You furrow your eyebrows and look at the ceiling. There’s really no choice to be made. You’ll let them make it for you, even if you don’t know them. It’s their house and you won’t walk in uninvited or try to take it. You’re not about to become a monster just because the world is full of them now.

The darkness grows and your eyes drift to the dim light wandering in under the crack of the door. Hushed voices whisper in the living room, you can hear them. It’s a heated discussion, lively, but deliberately quiet. It’s been hours since everyone went to bed, yet you get the impression that many people are chiming in. You’re too nosey to leave it be. 

You open the bedroom door silently, turning the cool knob with a wince as it clicks out of place. When you peer into the hallway, every upstairs bedroom door is open with the room empty. The light is coming from down stairs and around the corner, and you can see shadows move as you inch closer to the source. 

You pause at the top of the stairs, knowing that they creak, and crouch by the bannister to listen. You’re out of sight. The only way they’d know you’re listening is if you made a sound, but you won’t. You’re good at being quiet. 

“We don’t even know them,” someone says in a rushed whisper. “We don’t know what they’ve done before.” 

“Everyone’s done things they’re not proud of now, Shoto,” a woman adds. It’s Mina. She’s spoken enough to you that you recognize her voice. 

“I agree with Shoto,” says another woman, her voice higher pitched. She sounds guilty and her voice is tight as she speaks “We have no clue who they are. They could be dangerous.” 

“You mean like me, Ochako?” A man adds. “I could have been dangerous.” 

The group grows quiet for a moment. 

“No,” Momo says. You recognize the cadence of her voice. “Shoto might be right, Denki. It’s been nearly six months since you got here and the world has changed a lot. We don’t- we can’t know for sure.”

“Can we really know anything for sure?” Another man adds, Kiri.

“What about you guys?” Shoto says, presumably to the rest of the group. 

“I don’t know.”

“I’m hesitant, but I don’t know either.”  

“Jesus,” another man with a baritone voice, harsher than the rest. That’s Katsuki, the first voice you’d heard of the group. “You guys make me a little sick.” 

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says. 

“No,” he interrupts. “It is fair. You guys want to… what? Send them back out there to die?” 

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.  

“It is like that,” he says, raising his voice and then lowering it back to a whisper. “You didn’t see them when they got here, Shoto. They- they didn’t look… shit. The rest of you, you saw them. You really want to send them back out there to fuckin’ waste away? I don’t know about you all, but I won’t do that to a person.” 

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Katsuki’s right,” Izuku says with a bit of conviction, like he’s finally made up his mind. “Sending someone out there alone is a death sentence. How does doing that make us any better than the people we’re trying to protect ourselves from?” 

“What if there are more of them?” Ochako says quietly. “What if they’re not alone?” 

“Trust me,” Katsuki says, “They were alone.” 

“But what if they’re not?” She insists at a whisper, a bit of shame creeping into her voice. “What if people come for us?” 

“See?” Shoto says gently. “There are so many what-ifs.” 

“That works the other way too,” Mina adds. 

You don’t listen to hear the rest of their conversation. They’re going to run themselves in circles debating about you. They’ll go around and around and land on whichever argument ends with the most votes. They’ll convince each other of one thing and it will happen totally out of your control. 

The bedroom door shuts with a low click that makes you wince again. You think about the people who went to bat for you and the people who didn’t. You don’t blame those who opposed. You’d have probably reacted similarly if your old group were still alive and you understand very clearly why they do it. One person’s stupid reaction can be catastrophic and they don’t know enough about you to be certain that you’re not one of those stupid people. It’s how the world went to shit in the first place and though nine months ago you’d have surely condemned someone for making the same decision, you know that fear has warped humanity beyond comprehension. You didn’t get it until you lived it. 

Still, Katsuki’s humanity feels intact somehow, more so than yours at least. His response is something you probably never would have said under the same conditions and you can’t help but feel some sort of fondness bloom in you for him. Call it connection, gratefulness for his willingness to stick his neck out for you, a trauma response. You still feel it. Mina and Kiri had said that Katsuki was a good judge of character and that’s why they were willing to back him. You wonder briefly if maybe Katsuki sees something in you that you don’t recognize in yourself anymore, or maybe something you don’t expect other people to recognize. What is it that he wants so badly to protect? 

Someone stomps down the hallway, heavy boots against the old creaky floors. You hear the steps recede down the hallway, maybe a door or two down, before it shuts quickly. The sound makes you wince and you listen as the house grows quiet and then hums quietly with the sound of others coming upstairs a few moments later. Someone pads to the end of the hall, pushing the door open. 

You hear a woman’s voice, so muffled that you can’t make out what she’s saying. Then, you hear the sound of a man’s affirmation before the bedroom door shuts and the visitor moves back down the hall to a separate bedroom. Information passing through the house. 

Someone is moving around in a room below you and you figure that there are probably bedrooms downstairs as well. From the outside, you’d never guess that the place could house ten people. Inside though, the bedrooms are small. That’s probably why so many can fit. You’d guess that the place used to have multiple generations living in it, or maybe even rented out rooms to people for a few months. It sort of has a boarding house feel to it, like many people have come and gone even before people stopped staying in one place. 

That’s a good thing to call it, the boarding house. It certainly has that sort of feel to it, many of its spaces undeniably communal. 

You turn over in the bed, facing the bedroom door. The lights have gone out completely now and the house is quiet save for the occasional creak or thud from someone preparing to sleep. It’s been a long while since the sounds of living have been so prevalent near you. You’re eased by the sounds of the house settling, a familiar reminder of what living used to be. Your group had been on the road long before you lost them and the comforts of an interior are almost overwhelmingly nostalgic. You’re better rested to notice it now and shutting your eyes, you savor the feeling. 

—

“Need some help?” You say. 

Denki turns around, grease smeared across his nose where he likely wiped it with his dirty hands. He’s holding a wrench in a glove so tattered that it hardly counts as a glove anymore. He looks startled, amber eyes widening before he uses his forearm to brush stray hairs out of his face. The rest of it is pulled up into a messy ponytail, revealing the moist back of his neck. 

“Oh, sure,” he says, a bit surprised. “Do you know how generators work?” 

He crouches back over the machine and you step up behind him. 

The machine is rusted near the bottom and between the exposed winding pipes. Its paint has chipped away, leaving the weather-damaged metal open for you to see. On the side, a fan-like piece spins slowly in circles and the machine whirs and sputters softly as it… generates power, probably. 

“Not quite, but an extra pair of hands is always helpful,” you say softly, passing him a tool he’d been reaching for. “Did it break?” 

“No,” Denki says, “but it’s probably on its last legs. The thing’s almost as old as we are, probably older, so it’s good to tune it up a bunch.” 

You hum your agreement, tilting your head as you stand and watch him work. 

You’re not necessarily comfortable with Denki, but he feels like a safe person for some reason. Maybe it’s because he’s got a sort of ditzy, non-threatening vibe to him. You can almost distinctly picture him tripping over his own feet and something about that makes you feel considerably safer than someone who wouldn’t. That and he was the first person you’ve come across this morning who you don’t think distrusts you too badly. 

“Are you dodging something?” Denki smirks up at you from his crouch. 

“Who on earth would I be dodging?” you snort a bit defensively. 

“Shoto,” he says with a light smile. “He put you in a tight spot the other day.” 

“Yeah, well,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. “It wasn’t anything he didn’t have a right to ask.” 

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?” 

Denki laughs to himself a little and you’re surprised by how easygoing he is. You subconsciously begin to categorize him with Mina and Kiri. The dichotomy of this group baffles you a bit, but you can certainly see all nine of them as a collective. Tightly knit and well acquainted with the habits of others. 

“Oh!” He exclaims, “I have something you can do for me.” 

You tilt your head. 

“There’s a bucket over there,” he says, pointing absentmindedly to a shitty plastic bucket against the side of the house. “We use the water from the creek as coolant. It’s not factory grade, but it does the trick. You wanna go fill it up and bring it back for when I’m done tuning this thing up?” 

You furrow your eyebrows, not sure where the creek he’s talking about is. 

“The creek is just over there,” he points behind the house to the edge of the treeline. “I know you can’t see it from here, but if you walk in a straight line, you’ll hit it. Katsuki should be down there too, so you can use him as a landmark.” 

When you don’t immediately answer, Denki whines a little. 

“I mean,” he says, “I’d go myself, but-” 

“I’ll do it,” you laugh a little and Denki seems surprised that you do. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’d like to pull some weight at least while I’m here. Plus, I offered.” 

Denki mumbles his pleasure and you walk to the bucket without another word and set off in the direction Denki pointed. You’re much more willing to go out to the treeline now that you have a knife back at your side. 

The walk to the trees is longer than it looks, like how sometimes the horizon looks like something you could reach out and climb up onto. The walk stretches with each step you take and you become a little more understanding of why Denki didn’t want to do it himself. But the walk is actually pleasant, the warmth of mid May collecting evenly on your skin as the humidity grows more intense with the sun. 

You wonder what Katsuki would be doing by the creek. Maybe he’s fishing, or crouched over himself sharpening an arsenal of knives that you think he might keep in a roll attached to his belt sometimes. You’re not sure why, but Katsuki sort of has that expression to him. He’s handsome, but the scowl projects something hostile that makes him seem unapproachable. 

As you cross through the middle of the clearing, you could almost imagine that this is a normal day. Humidity collects on your skin, making you sweat a little as you dodge gopher holes and soft spots of dirt. It almost feels like summer camp, if it weren’t for the looming idea that you’re contributing to something you may not be a part of. Denki’s attitude though, has you hoping for a more favorable outcome, if you want to call it that. 

You’re only a few steps into the line of trees when the earth dips into a sand-lined ravine. The trees leave room for the sun to beat down on warmed rocks, making the area seem brighter with their subtle reflection of the light. The noise of the creek drowns out the sound of your footsteps and you shuffle toward where the earth flattens just before the water starts. A little ways to your right, you can see Katsuki sitting on a rock in the sun, his hands dipped into a large bucket. You narrow your eyes as he pulls what looks like a cloth out of the water, rubbing the fabric together before dipping it in the cool water of the creek.

As you approach, you realize what it is that he’s doing. It’s laundry. On the other side of him, you can see a bin of what look like dirty clothes and water-soaked clean ones. Talk about misjudged character. 

“Katsuki,” you say as you approach him, the bucket still empty in your hand.

He squints up at you, shifting his face so that it's in your shadow. 

“You’re still here,” he says plainly, returning to his task. 

“Clearly,” you respond, watching as he runs his fingers over the next piece of clothing in the bucket. 

“Why are you down here? Did Denki pawn the generator water onto you?” He says, like he’s somewhat frustrated. “He does that shit to anyone he can.” 

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?” He huffs out. 

“You’re doing laundry.” 

“Yeah?” he furrows his eyebrows and looks at you. “So?” 

“Nothing,” you say. “I just didn’t expect that.” 

“Yeah well,” he stops for a moment like he’s struggling to find the words. “It needed to be done. Figured I might as well.” 

“How progressive of you,” you joke with a straight face. 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes and sighs, not justifying your comment with a response. You find yourself smiling a little bit. 

“If you’re going to linger, sit down and do it,” he says. “You’re creeping me out.” 

You oblige him and sit down on a rock next to him, far enough that you’re not touching, but near enough to hear him if you speak in a low voice. For some reason, you feel a sort of kinship with Katsuki. You’d thought longer than you’d like to admit about his willingness to vouch for you and find that you want to live up to his expectation of your goodness, even if it’s not what you believe yourself to be anymore. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept well the past few nights and feel more like yourself, but there’s a certain casualness to conversing with him that you enjoy. He’s not looking at what you could be, but rather what you’re showing him that you are. His lack of doubt in that is something you find relatively attractive. 

You watch his arms out of the corner of your eye in between gazing at the treeline and the sky. Your field of vision catches on them, his sleeves cut short to expose his biceps, a bit muddied near the elbows where the mud has begun to stick. 

Katsuki doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence, but now and then you’ll catch the sideways glance he gives you, almost like he’s trying to figure out exactly why you’re lingering. 

“How long have you been with them?” You ask, more as a way to fill the silence. 

Katsuki’s hands pause as he thinks about answering, then, they continue their steady pace. 

“A decent amount of time,” he says. “I met Izuku first, probably in November just before Mina and Kiri. The rest came later.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. 

“No offense,” you start, “but you don’t really seem like the group type.” 

“And you don’t seem like the type who’d be alone,” he retorts, like your statement was stupid. 

You press your lips into a tight line, not really knowing how to respond. 

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head a little. 

“Were you?” 

“What? Was I sorry?” He furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Were you alone? Before Izuku.” 

He goes silent. You’ll take that as a yes, but you regret asking a little. It had just slipped out. If someone were to ask you something like that, you’d probably react the same way. That’s just as well, you don’t really need to know him like that anyway. 

You wonder briefly if anyone does. He seems closed off, but Mina and Kiri spoke about him a few days prior like they knew him well. Well enough at least to allude to a history you’ll likely never be privy to. Then there’s Momo, who whispers little things to him that he answers in kind. Curiosity gets the better of you, if only to tease. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you ask and Katsuki’s response is to rest his elbows on his knees and let out a dry laugh. 

He turns his head and looks at you from the side. “And what the fuck are you asking me that for?” 

“Just curious,” you say. “Is it Momo?” 

“Momo?” He makes a sour face at you. “Yeah, right.” 

“She’s pretty,” you say. 

“Sure is,” he responds dryly. “If you’re into the mom type.” 

“What? You’re not into moms?” You grin a little and Katsuki furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“So you do have a personality,” he scoffs a little. 

There’s a pause. You haven’t felt this in a while. The feeling of bonding with someone new, compatibility on the human level that feels nearly instant. 

“I’m kinda serious though,” you say, tilting your head down to catch his eye. “Do you?” 

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

“You seen any nice restaurants to take a person out to these days?” he questions, clearly a little frustrated with you in the way someone gets when they’re a bit amused. 

“You don’t have to take someone out to a restaurant to fuck them, you know?” You laugh a little. 

Katsuki’s lips part and he swallows like his mouth has gone dry. 

“Yeah, well,” he starts, looking away from you. “I’m a romantic. Sue me.” 

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he? You find that you’re captivated by this feeling, this humanity, that exists in him. It’s something alive between you both, something left behind from the old world, and you crave it the same way you crave food. 

Katsuki continues scrubbing the clothes, rubbing the fabric together and then dunking it in the bucket before plunging it into the freshwater creek. You’re not sure why you do it, but the next time he looks at you, you kiss him. 

It’s not as if you like him, but it’s something to feel. Some remnant of the butterflies you used to feel on dates and the kiss makes you feel like you could be close to human again. You pull away almost as soon as you put his lips to yours and you can tell that the expression on your face is one of surprise.

Katsuki blinks for a second, looking at you with his brows knitted together. The expression doesn’t leave him as he places a wet hand on the side of your face to kiss you again. It’s an anxious kiss, confused and slow but—like someone riding a bike for the first time in years—it quickly becomes something familiar. Muscle memory that you both let yourselves sink into. 

You can feel his expression as he kisses you, something between confusion and desire, like his own actions are perplexing. You feel the same way, hesitant, but reaching in the dark for the promise of some sort of normalcy. You want to feel like a person again. You haven’t felt it in so long and you push yourself against him as the ache swells in you. 

The two of you continue like this for a moment, Katsuki’s fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your neck. You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth, taking a sharp inhale at the sensation of skin on skin. The sound of the creek drowns out the clicking of your mouths, but you can feel the way he hums into your mouth. They’re little sounds, involuntary ones driven by the nervous, desirous feelings inside of you both. 

Then, Katsuki pulls away, swallowing thick as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. You appreciate the way they look. They’re swollen, anxious to continue and keep forgetting where you really are. He drops his hand from your face with a sigh and almost seems like he comes back to himself. You do the same, moving back into an upright position. 

“Denki will want that water soon,” he clears his throat and motions to the empty bucket by your feet. 

“Oh,” you say, laughing a little. “Right.” 

You stand, dusting off the back of your pants and dunking the bucket into the water. It sloshes, the liquid hitting the back of the plastic with a satisfying elastic sound. You begin to walk away without another word, heading down the way you came to climb up the gentler part of the slope. 

“Hey,” Katsuki calls softly. “You should stay. We talked it over last night. You can if you want to.” 

The last part, he says facing the wash, his hands moving as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You don’t respond, knowing that the obvious answer is already yes. 

Dread settles in your stomach. It’s an icky, swirling feeling that threatens to make you double over. You climb up the bank, the water in the bucket sloshing as you move through the trees and enter the clearing. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, growing as you leave the cover of the trees. You probably wouldn’t have kissed him if he’d asked you that earlier. 

The boarding house comes into view and you can see Denki sitting beside the generator, conversing with who appears to be Shoto. They turn and Denki waves you down, Shoto turning away and starting around for the front of the house. 

Denki jogs to meet you, taking the bucket from your hand. You flex your fingers as the weight is removed, wincing a little at how stiff they feel. 

“Jeez, what took you so long?” Denki laughs and with your new information, you understand his willingness to be friendly with you a little better. 

“I asked Katsuki for his life story,” you respond dryly, following him back to the generator. 

Denki looks over his shoulder and laughs at you. “Did he tell you?” 

You pause for a moment, watching as Denki unscrews something and pours the water in. 

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

Click Here to go to the second chapter and find the rest of the series on ao3. The remainder will not be posted on tumlbr, but please feel free to reblog!

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!General x Reader x Yan!Recruit

'The Little Soldier and His General'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, power dynamics, mentions of sa, masturbation, oral, mentions of war and military, implied violence, threats, coercion, female and male genitalia, female reader, pet names.

(AN: Part two to 'His Little Bride', here by popular demand!)

Part 1 here!

You trod up the stairs, your shoes clacking against the hardwood as you come to the door of Fritz's office, knocking gently on it. "Come in..." Fritz's deep voice calls, and as you enter he peers up from his desk. A smile spreads across his face, as he stands to see you. "Hello, my love..." He says, wrapping his hands around your waist gently. His stubble brushes against your forehead, and you giggle at the feeling. "Fritz, you're tickling me." You playfully smack his chest, causing him to back off. He steps aside, and returns to his desk. Someone coughs awkwardly, causing your head to snap in the direction of the sound. A young man, about your age, maybe younger, is standing by the corner of Fritz's desk, scuffing his shoe against the carpet and trying not to interrupt.

"Ah, my love, this is Johannes, he's the new recruit I mentioned a few nights ago at the dinner. Johannes, this is my lovely betrothed." You smile, and nod in the boys direction. Despite the fact he's probably only 20, a year or two younger than you, he's a giant. He's lanky, standing almost as tall as Fritz. Red curls adorn his head, matching the reddish-freckles that cover his face. "It's wonderful to meet you, ma'am." He stutters, smiling awkwardly. "Johannes, show some respect for the lady, especially an officer's wife. Make eye contact with her, shake her hand." Fritz, urges, trying to suppress a grin and seem stern. You scoff, and roll your eyes. "Johannes, ignore him. He's just trying to stress you out." You assure the boy, and he lets out a sigh of relief. You turn back to your betrothed.

"I don't want to interrupt, I'll leave you gentleman to your work." You offer. Fritz shakes his head, motioning with his hand towards a nearby chair while he sits down at his desk. "No, we were just almost finishing up, you can stay right here." You nod, and sit down. You take a book off of the shelf and busy yourself reading. While you do, Fritz and Johannes lean over his desk, examining some papers as they finish up. Sighing, Fritz places down the papers, and looks up at the redhead.

"Well, I believe that's all of our affairs in order, then?" He asks. "Yes sir! I've sent telegram to the infantry marching down south, and I ensured the diplomats would be ready to speak with you in the morning." Johannes explains, a small boyish smile on his face. Fritz claps a hand down on the boy's shoulder. "Only a few weeks in Johannes, and I think you may be one of the best young men I've trained. I've never seen someone so eager." Fritz compliments. The boy freezes, and looks down as his grin grows wider. "Just... just wanna make you proud, sir." Fritz feels his heart swell at the comment. In the few weeks since Johannes joined up with Fritz, he's been training the boy in every task he can think of, from infantry duties, to cleaning, to telegrams and more. After learning about the boy coming to fight for is family, and learning he has no father, Fritz felt a duty to care for him. He sees a lot of himself in him, and he feels himself get sick anytime he imagines Johannes having to endure what he went through when he first joined, before anyone treated him like he was worth something. Fritz keeps Johannes up at the main house as much as he can, as he's already had to punish several soldiers for picking on the new kid.

As Fritz snaps out of it, he notices Johannes gaze has drifted over to you. You are sitting in the chair, curled up with your knees tucked by your chest, skirt ruffled warmly around you as you read whatever book you picked up from the shelf. Johannes can feel his heart thrumming in his chest, the sounds of the world around him blocked out by it echoing in his hears. Fritz looks once, then twice back-and-forth between you and Johannes. If any other man had dared to gaze at his soon-to-be bride for this long, he would have them sent out on a mission they would surely not return from. However, as he looks in Johannes's eyes, analyzing his gaze, he sees no hint of malice or ill-intent. Johannes looks at you with such innocence, such curiosity that Fritz allows it. Fritz knows that Johannes is looking at you the way he looks at you. "Johannes?" Fritz asks, and the boy practically chokes, coughing as he snaps out of it. His wild and embarrassed expression makes Fritz chuckle warmly. "U-uh, yes sir?" Johannes asks, hand fidgeting with the edge of the desk as he taps his fingers against the varnished mahogany.

"Any particular reason you are staring at my bride?" Johannes shakes his head wildly, pushing his hands out in surrender and almost shrinking in on himself. "No, no sir! I was just wondering what she was reading, not, not looking at her in any way! I respect that she's your bride, and I respect her as a woman- I would never look at a girl like that. My mother always told me-" Fritz cuts him off, leaning forward on the desk and placing a firm, calloused hand on the boy's shoulder, feeling that he now quakes with anxiety. "Private Johannes, please, please calm down. I take no offence, my boy." Fritz gestures to you. "I will admit, I can be the protective type. But I need you to know, the only men who have been punished for trying to corrupt or gaze upon her like that are those who do it with nothing but animal urges in mind. You've seen how the soldiers in town act, around the bars and whorehouses, yes?" Johannes nods. Just the other day, a group of soldiers had tried to convince him to lose his virginity at a local brothel, but he denied, feeling sick at the thought. One of the women standing outside the brothel had touched him through his uniform. He knew one day a woman would do that, but to lose himself this way felt wrong. Especially because he knew many of the women in these places turned to this career only because of the war.

He couldn't stand the way soldiers spoke about girls late at night after an evening of drinking. Whenever they would whistle, or catcall some poor village girl, he was reminded of his sisters, and what his mother taught him about how to treat a woman. That was someones daughter, or sister, and the idea of making any woman feel the way he did when that woman groped him makes him wish that he was strong enough to deal with his fellow soldiers himself.

"Yes, sir." Johannes says. Fritz smiles when he notices the way Johannes frowns, grimacing a little as he recalls. He knows that Johannes feels the same about the urges and actions of those sick men. "Many of those men have tried, would try to harm her in that way." Johannes looks up, shaking his head as his eyes go wide. "No..." Johannes exclaims. Fritz nods gravely, enjoying stoking the boy up a little. "That is one of the reasons I keep her up here, why she is going to be my little bride. She must be kept safe, safe from those who would do her wrong. Even her father wanted to refuse to engage her to me. That man would have rather married his daughter off to some scum from the town than give her to a man who cared." Fritz growls, and the hairs on the back of Johannes neck stand up. Despite this, he stares intently at his superior, finding himself enthralled at the idea of keeping and caring for something, someone so lovely. Someone to protect. "Then how did you get her to wed you?" He asks, curiosity eating him from the inside out until he can't help but spit out the words. "I had her father... dispatched, I suppose. Trying to allow a young lady of this great country to be harmed surely counts as an act of treason." Fritz explains. He leaves out the fact he had your father executed so that any inheritance of yours could be put towards a wedding, but he thinks it a minor detail He glances over to make sure you aren't listening, then leans in close, so he may whisper into the boys ear.

"Now, Johannes. I have a question for you, and I want you to think carefully before you answer." Johannes bites his lips nervously, but waits for his admired superior to continue. "What do you think I should have done in that situation?" He asks. Johannes tilts his head, brows furrowed. "How do you mean, sir?" He asks. "I mean, what would you have done, if a lovely thing like her came along, who you adored and needed to protect, but someone was trying to keep you from her. What would have happened?" He asks. Johannes sighs, his fists balling up tightly. "The truth, sir?" Fritz nods. "I... well, I'm not very strong, o-or brave. I don't have your status, but... I think, I think I would do whatever it takes to keep her. Even if I meant doing something I don't think I'm quite ready for." Fritz pulls the boy in for a hug, and Johannes fear melts away for a brief moment. He hasn't felt affection since he left home, and the only thing keeping him from melting into his general is his shame about being affectionate with another man. Fritz pulls away, and looks the boy in the eyes. "My boy, by the time you are done training with me, there won't be a single thing you aren't strong enough or powerful enough to do, you understand me?" The thought of being good enough fills Johannes with glee. "I understand, sir."

"Good. Now, Johannes, you are a young man. I know by the way you talk, and the way you are that you are a good one. I don't want you learning to copy the other recruits in any task, but especially in how to care for a girl." Fritz explains. "Did your father have time to teach you about these things before his death?" Johannes shakes his head. "I know the basics, sir. My mother told me, and she told me to respect a girl, but... I know very little beyond that, I admit." He says sadly. "Well, I see how you looked at my bride. Look again, you have my permission." The boy looks up, unsure if this is some sort of test, but eventually he glances in your direction. He sighs at the serene girl sat before him.

"My bride was not unlike you a while ago. Innocent, naive. Do you want to protect her as I do, Johannes?" Fritz asks. "Of course, all women should be protected, and-" Fritz shakes his head, cutting the rambling boy off. "No, Johannes. I mean, do you want to protect her, specifically? Do you fancy my bride?" Johannes trembles, his cheeks reddened with a shame so deep feels like he might throw up. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry... I feel, I feel awful." He confesses. "I never wanted to feel like this, I admire you, and I respect you sir, I really do! But when I first arrived at your estate, I would see her around, reading or baking. I'd see her with you and, and god she seemed perfect. So caring, and I was drawn to her kindness in such a hellish place like the war." Fritz nods. "Johannes, you must understand. Other men and boys look at her with lust, desire. You look upon her with a craving, for how sweet she is. You don't want to defile her, you ant to care for her. You are not them. You, Johannes, are like me." Johannes can barely stand the feeling of euphoria that washes over him, the roller coaster of emotions is too much for him. Being told that the man he admires most in this world sees himself in him is enough to send the boy over the edge. "You don't know how much what you've said means to me, sir..." He whispers, looking up at Fritz. "Now, I have a proposal for you, my dear boy."

Fritz pauses, allowing Johannes to collect himself and steady his breathing. "I have taught you many things at camp, including manners. Given your love and respect for my bride, and the importance of me teaching you about all aspects of life, I think perhaps you should allow me to educate you on how to best care for a woman." Johannes chokes oncemore. "As in, giving them gifts, a-and courting them?" He asks, unsure if what he thinks Fritz is implying is true. "Partially. I am simply offering you to care for her. I fear I am not able to spend as much time with her as I want, and I know it's important for you to learn about the things women like, should you find a girl you want to marry in the future." Johannes nods. "Keep her company for a month or so, and when me and her wed, you may go and find a girl of your own, should you desire. But-" Fritz smiles. "Should you find yourself attached, which I would not blame you for, you may continue to live with me and her in our estate." Johannes grins. "Sir, I... thank you." Fritz only nods. "I care a great deal for you, boy, and I'm sure my bride will too. Tonight though, I think if you should want to, an education of another kind is necessary, should you keep my bride company or find another girl." "Do you mean?" Fritz nods. "I will speak to her after dinner, I'm sure she will agree. Meet us in the master suite after dinner, and I will provide you with a hands-on approach to the marital bed."

Late in the evening, Johannes finds himself pacing outside of his General's bedroom, unable to calm himself. Excitement eats away at him, though a small part of himself fears this is all a trick, a test, and that this is simply a way to shame him. He shakes off these thoughts, knowing his beloved superior wouldn't do that. Not to him. He hears the door creak, and he looks up eagerly. "Sir." He greets. Fritz nods his head. "At ease, my boy. This isn't a drill. Come in, take off your shoes." Johannes follows Fritz into the dimly lit room, and gasps as he sees what awaits him. Your lovely frame from earlier, once sat by the window, is now nude, layed on the bed like a present for him. He kicks of his shoes, and approaches. His fear of this being a trap has subsided, now replaced with anxiety that you won't like him, or the way he looks. He swallows deeply.

"Hello Johannes." You greet shyly, not able to fully make eye-contact. When Fritz proposed this to you, you were shocked, as he had always been very private and strict about intimate affairs. Many times when was balls-deep in you, he had growled things about never sharing and owning you. You couldn't deny you were curious what about this boy had gotten him so attached, and you agreed. Now the young private is stood before you, a bulge already prominent in his trousers.

Fritz senses you are a little nervous, and sits behind you, allowing your bare back to lean against his chest as he looks up to Johannes. "Johannes, firstly you must situate yourself. Come, sit down before her." Johannes eagerly crawls onto the bed, looking at his general for further instructions. "You've seen people kiss before, right?" He shrugs. "Yes, sir. My mother and father before he died, and a few soldiers with women, but I've never done it myself." He admits. Fritz nods. "Well, don't over-complicate it, just lean in, ask her if she would like a kiss?" Johannes kneels before you, his locks of red hair almost covering his downcast eyes. "Ma'am, may I kiss you?" He whispers. You blush at his continued formality, but nod. His breathe is shaky as he leans forward, connecting his lips with your soft ones. Much like Fritz, this boy is rough and calloused, with chapped lips. He isn't as hardened as Fritz, but he has the makings of what Fritz is. He moans a little, his hand coming to touch your chest instinctively. You squeak, and he removes his hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He exclaims, looking at you and Fritz, panicked. "No, it's fine, just, caught me off guard." You explain. "I.. I really liked it. You are a beautiful woman, thank you for letting me... y'know, engage in this with you." He whispers. You smile and stroke his cheek. "Of course." Fritz smiles. "Such good manners, private. Exemplary. Now darling, why don't you show him what makes a woman so different from a boy? Give him a look." Fritz urges. Fritz slips his hand onto your upper thighs, spreading them so Johannes can get a look at the bush between your legs. While you had initially been rather insecure about it, Fritz has always assured you he likes you natural. Johannes gulps, watching as you spread your folds with two fingers, allowing him easy access to your holes and clit. You are already wet, the slickness giving your pussy a sheen.

"See that little pearl at the top of her sex?" Fritz asks. Johannes nods. "That's her clit. Girls tend to feel the best when a boy know how to properly service it. Try gently rubbing it with a finger or two." Fritz instructs. Johannes extends to slender fingers to the pearl of your sex, beginning to rub small circles around the sensitive bud. It feels nice, but he's clearly inexperienced, as he doesn't touch you down there like Fritz does. Fritz notices you are quieter than usual, and he uses his hand to guide Johannes fingers. Small circles become the occasional flick, accompanied by a rub to the right side of your pearl. As Fritz moves his hand away, Johannes strokes that special spot, making you gasp. "J-Johannes..." You moan, causing the boy to pause. "No, no, my boy, when a girl feels good like that for you, don't stop. Keep touching her like that." Fritz urges. Johannes shakes it off, nodding. "Yes, sir. Sorry." He continues his ministrations. You whine, feeling his slender hands roll your clit, building you up. "G-god... A little faster, please." You beg. Johannes looks to Fritz, who nods. The boy speeds up, and soon you feel yourself about to cum on the privates fingers. "Ah... oh god, Fritz, gonna cum', he's gonna make me cum..." You groan. The moaning of his name with your erotic expression sends Johannes over the edge, and he gasps as he feels a convulsing. He looks down, and a wet patch is appearing on his pants. As you cum, he looks ashamed. "Sir..." He whimpers, and Fritz looks at the boys predicament.

"It's fine, my boy. Sometimes it comes early when your new to this, besides..." He places a hand on your chest, helping work you through your orgasm. "It's hard not to, looking at such a lovely girl..." As you come down from your high, you pant, shuffling forwards. "Thank him for being good with you, my girl." Fritz says. He was always one for manners. "Thank you Johannes." You say. "For what?" Fritz pushes. "For making me cum, for making me feel so good." Johannes can feel himself hardening again. "Now, Johannes, I'm sure she's eager to return the favor, so I want you to undress." Johannes hands shakes as he tries feebly to undo the buttons of his trousers. Eventually, he gets them off, springing free his cock. It's not the longest you've had, but then he isn't fully hard yet. "Darling, why don't you show Johannes just how thankful you are." You press a kiss gently to the red tip of his cock, watching as it twitches. He is clearly sensitive. You stroke it once or twice, teasing it until it's fully erect. "Does this feel good?" You ask. Despite being engaged to Fritz, you are still rather inexperienced. Johannes nods, then cuts off when you place your lips around him, taking his cock into your eager mouth.

"Oh, Oh god, sir!" Johannes whines, looking at his superior. He can feel the warmth of your mouth engulf his cock, your tongue rubbing ever so slightly along the prominent vein that runs on it's underside. "Don't be afraid to buck against her, just be sure no to damage her throat. She still struggles with taking a man fully." Fritz explains. At this, Johannes begins to gently thrust himself in and out, causing him to grip the sheets of the bed. "So good, ma'am. Please, uh... d-deeper, take me deeper." His little whines make your core throb, and you move to try and move him just a little further in, his tip rubbing the back of your mouth. He can feel his orgasm approaching, and calls out for Fritz. "Sir, I'm gonna cum again, am I allowed to-to, do I have your permission to-" He can barely ask, his legs shaking. "Of course, but ask her, she'll be the one to taste you." Fritz says. Johannes groans, and looks down at you. Tears prick the corners of his eyes. "Please, please ma'am, lemme cum inside, your mouth feels s' good. You feel so good, please!" He's begging now, the tears flowing freely. You bob your head, nodding, and the sight of your pretty face taking his cock with such ease sends him over the edge. "Ma'am, god, I'm cumming! Cumming in your mouth, shit..." He whimpers, feeling your mouth continue to suck him while he fills you up. He whines at the feeling of being practically milked by your tongue and soft lips. As he lays back, You swallow, and look at your betrothed.

Fritz is grinning, with one hand already unzipping the front of his trousers. "Felt s' good, sir." Johannes whispers, his cock now limp between his shaking legs. Fritz nods, grinning at how fucked-out his young subordinate is. "You did well, Johannes. So respectful and obeidient, servicing your superiors bride at his request." Johannes has to resist gasping at the praise. "Now, this last part is reserved for me, but you must watch and learn. It will be of use to you some day." Johannes watches as you lay on your stomach, innocent eyes looking up at him as you smile, while your fiancee slips out his reddended cock and lines it up with your pussy, caging you down beneath him as he prepares to take you from behind.

"Watch how a man gives his little bride a baby, Johannes..."

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Unlucky

Pairing: Dark Ramsay Bolton x (female) Reader

SUMMARY: Sadly you lose your baby. But what’s even worse is that it’s Ramsay’s baby. 

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

WARNINGS: Miscarriage; Violence; Abusive Marriage; Threats.

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Also this is the only angry Ramsay gif I could find 😅 hope you guys like it, it's a bit too dark.

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“There were some…complications, my lord.”

Ramsay looks at you, eyes darting towards your covered middle. Your hands grip the bed sheet and you gulp as fear runs through you.

The agony of losing a child is defeated by the fear of whatever the future holds for you.

That’s what marriage with Ramsay resulted in. Nothing but fear and despair.  

"The babe? Is it fine? What happened?” Ramsay inquires the maester, genuine concern displayed in his face.

The maester glances at you, his face falling into a bow, and you do the same, avoiding Ramsay’s eyes. The excruciating pain in your middle worsens with the panic you feel, tears starting to flood your eyes.

The silence perpetuates.

“No. No!” you close your eyes, small sobs escaping you upon Ramsay’s frustration. His voice growing in volume until it cracks, desperate howls of agony as he mourns over your dead child.  

Your eyes opened in a fright as fingers painfully dig into your cheeks. Ramsay hovers over you, fury disfiguring his features.

“You…You little bitch! You did this.” He growls, eyes squinting with suspicion and your face snaps to the side with the force of his slap.

“You never wanted it, did you? My heir…my son.”

“No! Ramsay, please-“

Your pleas are rapidly interrupted with another smack, this one harsher. Your tongue tastes the blood of your torn lower lip but you know it’s only the beginning. His hand can go much harder than that. 

“You killed my child, you vicious whore.” He accuses you, grabbing you by your hair, the sharp sting making you whimper.

The madness and rage that burns in his eyes terrifies you.    

Ramsay spits in your face, the vigor of his hold increasing to the point that you can feel some of your roots giving up.

He gets closer and you stop your breathing.

“You’re going to suffer for this. When I’m done with you, you won’t even remember your own name. You’ll cry tears of blood and wish you were dead already.” he threatens you, his voice lowered to a whisper.

“And then you’re going to give me a child. A son. And another. And another. You’ll give me what I want. Over and over until you’re nothing more than my breeding bitch. That’s what you deserve.”

[manjiroscum]

LILY OF THE VALLEY

Character/s: snow leopard hybrid!Rindou Haitani

Warnings: f!reader, mature language, explicit sexual themes, dark content, canon typical violence, blood, murder, dub-con, marking, mentions of mating, hybrid au, kidnapping, yandere!rindou, dom!rindou, sub!reader, cockdrunk reader, implied multiple rounds, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, breeding, blackmailing/threats, pet play, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: commissioned by @httn 💜 thank you love for trusting me with this! i hope you like it 🫶

Synopsis: Only fools come out to play with a feral cat.

WC: 6.1k

Crimson specks marred the freshly fallen snow akin to wine spilled all over a white linen cloth. The bullet wound on his thigh was slowing him down. Nevertheless, Rindou trudged up the small hill to reach the other side of the forest hoping he would escape his pursuers that were looking through his busted car for any signs of life. With his teeth gritted, the lost man was sure he might die today. After getting separated from Ran and the others, a car chase occurred as he fled from the warehouse when a bomb about to blow up the building was shouted out. In all his years of doing the same song and dance, one could say Rindou got used to the chaos that has intertwined into his life since the day he was born with the need to experience thrills.

But, fuck, he could never get used to getting shot or bleeding out. The first time hurt like a bitch and the second time it happened made him want to pass out. It was more irritating to face than shoot those who dare touch his tail. Now, Haitani Rindou was sure he will die. Whatever plan those bastards cooked up that would confirm his demise, he had to give them props because they might succeed. Car dead, his phone without any signal, the temperature dropping fast, and a forest that may span a thousand hectares was just the starter pack he needed to die in these woods.

Rindou can’t die here. It would just be pathetic. So pathetic that they might make jokes out of it. His death would only make people say he deserved it or it is the consequence of having an unpleasant lifestyle. And honestly, fuck them. He has to live. He has to get out of here and seek shelter before the frost bites his fingers, ears, and toes off. What would his enemies think? What would Bonten do? What would Ran do?

What should he do?

A million thoughts raced through his mind as his knees finally gave away. His eyes fluttered close for a moment, inhaling the cold air sharply that he was quite sure it could cut his nostrils like blades made out of ice. A trail of blood followed him from where he started all the way to the top of the hill. In contrast to the icy atmosphere around him, his lungs burned. During these times, delusions would enter his mind to distract him from the impending doom that was looming above his head. Death was now breathing down his neck as if they were old friends. Its voice called out to him through the chilly breeze that brushed past him and the strong trees that appeared like shadows of those whom he wronged and killed to survive. If he had to guess what hell looked like, this was possibly the closest description minus the flames. Why would such a cold environment bother him in such a way? This has never happened before. He could think of countless reasons why a hybrid such as he who was meant to thrive in such an environment was slowing down.

Ah, that’s right… He never had to be out much to do his dirty deeds. It was always his underlings. Pawns who would readily obey him for various goals. He and Ran, without fail, get away from taxing jobs. After all, meaningless fights never appeased their appetite for violence. Something always had to interest the brothers for them to act. Looking back on those memories of merely partying and finding someone to toy with, Rindou couldn’t help but exhale deeply. His lips were chapped due to the lack of moisture in the air.

If my life is flashing before my eyes, perhaps I am indeed dying…

And yet, amidst the snow and harsh winds, a merciful angel came into view. Rindou thought he was already a goner for his eyes to conjure such a beautiful sight. Vivid colors murked into a blur as his vision steadily failed him due to exhaustion finally catching up to him. However, the second that angel spoke, voice soothing despite the panicked tone evident in it, he realized this was reality.

“Sir? Oh my god, w-wait. I need to call an ambulance—”

“N…o.” It took all of his strength to move his lips and tongue. The woman before him met his dazed stare, shifting her attention between Rindou and something behind her. “No am…bulance…”

“W-what? Why? No, you need immediate attention…”

Haitani Rindou, one of the infamous criminals Bonten has in their arsenal and the fearsome younger brother of Ran was still vulnerable to things that exude innocence. Perhaps it was just in his nature to be drawn toward something he can never be and so he tried to push away the person who came out on a snowy night to help him. This earned him a surprised expression and more questions he couldn't answer. Rindou’s efforts were in vain as his eyelids finally shut, and the last of his energy left him unconscious in the hands of a stranger.

I’m sorry, Ran…

There was a sea of trees you had to drive by to reach your parents’ house. The road was slippery due to the snow but you had to go after promising to drive carefully. After a hearty dinner and entertaining their inquiries about whether you will get married or not, you were set on heading back to your apartment. Tomorrow is Monday and you had to wake up early for your nine-to-five job at the cafe your cousin owned. Normally, your schedule ranged from mundane to the occasional unexpected events that usually revolved around your job or your parents. Yet they were never anything spontaneous or something that will make the hairs on the back of your hair stand until you had to rescue this man now sleeping on a makeshift bed in a veterinarian’s clinic.

Ignorance could sometimes save a person’s life. The second you saw the hanafuda tattoo on his neck, you knew the shit you were about to get into could get messy. Never had you ever thought of bringing an infamous person, let alone one of Bonten’s henchmen, into your home. The veterinarian you called for help swore his secrecy after he commended you for doing first aid, but commented that men like him shouldn’t be saved. Yet, your conscience wouldn’t let you sleep soundly at night if you left him there on a cold winter’s night to bleed to death or get feasted on by bears.

“Are you… his girlfriend or somethin’?”

“No, I’m not,” you responded while cleaning up the bloody clothing and gauze after Rindou’s wound was stitched up. “However, as a human being, I couldn’t just leave him there. I’m… not capable of such cruelty.” The man shifted his attention back to the dangerous person fast asleep and then squinted hard as if his patient was just pretending. Grunting, the veterinarian gathered the last of his tools into his bag and made his way to the door, but not before leaving you some sound advice.

“Be careful because this choice you made might just bite you back. I’ll be back as soon as possible when I find a doctor in the area. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this secret doesn’t reach the authorities.”

Thinking back to what happened earlier, you were sure your blood ran cold at the sight of a broken car by the road. Initially, you thought the vehicle broke down and that the owner must be somewhere nearby since it would take around twenty minutes to get to the nearest town. Unless they had to hitch a ride because it was freezing and decided to leave the car. But the second you saw what seemed to be bullet holes in its body, uneasiness coated your nerves like thick molasses. The dread of finding a dead body doubled upon seeing blood on the snow, leading up to where you found the dying unknown man.

Damn it all. He wouldn’t harm someone who rescued him, right?

No, scratch that, this man wasn’t a stranger to you. You were the stranger—not him. Everybody who worked in Tokyo and heard the news was all aware of Bonten, the most dangerous gang in the country to date, enough to rival the yakuza. Those hanafuda tattoos they branded on their flesh bear the symbol of their loyalty to the man who founded the group, Sano Manjiro. The Haitani brothers were as famous all by themselves. It didn’t have to take you long to know everything they committed under the sun or the veil of night. Rumors of the brothers and Bonten always circulate on the internet. In short, they were individuals you had to avoid to live long.

Eyes glancing at your phone sitting by the couch, you debated whether to call the cops and turn him in. Maybe getting Rindou off your hands will be the first step to having your normal life back… Or will just cement the death sentence he shall bestow upon your unfortunate soul once he recovers.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” you groaned into your hands. Sleep was out of the question. You had to monitor Haitani Rindou for two obvious reasons—one because he might wake up and two because he might silence you the second he does. Gruesome pictures of your death flashed on the television screen ran across your imaginative mind and honestly, you were scaring yourself. Clearly, you didn’t think this through. But, what’s done is done. There was no way you could throw him out now. “Let’s… just make sure he’s fine enough to walk out of here on his own. Y-yeah…”

Exhaling a defeated sigh, you sat down on the floor and stared at Rindou’s unconscious form. For a man as big and bad as him, you bet he would snore loudly. Yet, he looked almost like a corpse—unmoving and quite fragile. The biggest shirt you had at your disposal appeared tiny in his huge frame. The veterinarian even gave up on giving him something to wear on the lower part, muttering how he shouldn’t even be bothered to clothe the criminal. The thought of Rindou being naked down there was slightly distracting, making your eyes wander down from the hanafuda tattoo on his neck to the intricate design on his torso until you slapped your cheeks to make you stop eyeing the muscular hybrid.

What the—don’t do this to yourself. He is a criminal, for fuck’s sake!

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your phone to check for any messages. There was only one from your mother, checking up on whether you arrived home. A humorless laugh escaped your lips as you lied to her. Besides, she will definitely panic if she knew you were looking after a criminal in a vet’s clinic. You hoped to distract your mind from spiraling into endless regret by watching adorable videos of dogs. A good turn deserves another… You just wished Haitani Rindou was a person who would reward good deeds.

The morning was rough on you. With a stretch or two, you cursed your aching back while you proceeded to order breakfast for three. Your cousin was kind enough to give you a day off after phoning in with a fake cold. The minute you finished offering him apologetic words after lying through your teeth, you then grabbed the takeout and sped off to the clinic Rindou was moved to. Caffeine and sweets were the things keeping you sane save for the veterinarian and a doctor, whom he roped into the situation, present in the room. Dr. Hinohara was silently observing Rindou’s body while giving a blood transfusion to the still-sleeping hybrid. Compared to last night, the younger Haitani looked slightly better. He still appeared like he crawled out of hell and survived, though.

“I guess we don’t have to bring this man to the hospital,” the doctor spoke after some time. “There doesn’t seem to be a bullet stuck to his thigh. He did lose a lot of blood. I’ll just make sure to monitor him in case he needs more blood transfusions and if there could be any infections on the wound. If he does turn for the worst, I will have to bring him to the hospital—”

You were quick to object, leaving your cup of coffee to stand up. “H-he told me he shouldn’t go to a hospital. I’ll pay you, Sir. I’ll make sure to pay you for treating him. J-just don’t bring him there. Please…”

Dr. Hinohara sighed at your statement, sharing a glance with the veterinarian. Just as you were ready to shoot down their suggestions of you putting an end to your good samaritan role, the doctor then nodded solemnly in resignation. Appeased, you backed away before sitting yourself down once again. Seeing that there wasn’t anything left for him to do, the veterinarian excused himself and left the establishment. A few minutes later, Dr. Hinohara did the same to attend to his outpatients. It wasn’t until lunchtime when he came back that you decided to head back home to catch some sleep after a long warm bath. To be in a room alone with Haitani Rindou, awake or not, was making you anxious. Your eyes were often fluttering close, trying to stay conscious and alert in the presence of an infamous gang member. To let your guard down would be serenading death.

“You can come back tomorrow afternoon,” Dr. Hinohara said with a gentle smile upon seeing you out. “I don’t think Mr. Haitani would wake up today anyways. Go home and get some rest. I’ll call you if anything changes about his current condition.”

“Thank you, Dr. Hinohara.”

If you knew that the day you saved Haitani Rindou would be the last time you could ever experience a normal life, perhaps the future wouldn’t turn out like this—with you almost sticking to a corner whereas Rindou glared at your quivering form. Dr. Hinohara was nowhere to be found on the second floor and your mind concocted various scenarios at the sight of the trashed room. How could the man be up and ready to threaten you with his sharp claws when he was just barely conscious days ago? You even recall Dr. Hinohara remarking about Rindou being too weak to open his eyelids. So just how?

Irises sharp as his claws remained on you, hues of ultra violet hoping to unmask your intentions by staring right into your soul. Behind his predatory gaze were promises filled with violence and a whole world of pain if you so much as make a single move that he will deem a crime towards him.

Haitani Rindou was not a man to be trifled with.

“You… Didn’t I tell you not to bring me to a hospital?” he questioned in a demanding tone, taking a step closer to you which prompted your weak legs to fall back. This is the very thing you hoped to avoid. Maybe if you were given the foresight that Haitai Rindou would recuperate enough to stand today, you would have come prepared to negotiate. Negotiate with him not to kill you and to leave you alone because you did what he asked. However, he didn’t seem happy at the idea of recovering in a clinic, afraid his location would be alerted to the police. “What’s the matter? Suddenly can’t use that tongue of yours? From what I remember you weren’t mute—”

“This isn’t a hospital. Y-you’re in a clinic, can’t you see?”

The hand you used to gesture at the area shuddered upon seeing him move. Rindou was obviously confused as he surveyed the room, unsure whether to take your word or not. You couldn't blame him, though. Blood rolling down his thigh akin to raindrops on a glass window captured your attention, taking away the assertive statements off of your lips. Your fear for him was outweighed by your concern for his wound that might have reopened due to his carelessness.

Rindou was quick to create distance between you two. Your eagerness was mistaken as an act to lunge and subdue him which was something you couldn't do. He realized this the moment he winced in pain, hand applying pressure on his bleeding thigh. You clicked your tongue and hurriedly helped him back onto his bed. His hostility towards you disappeared with each pang of pain that erupted around his injury. Of course, he just had to be slowed down by this and for you, this was a blessing in disguise.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll go see if Dr. Hinohara has returned.”

Any deity above must have heard your silent prayer for the doctor announced himself inside Rindou’s room, eyes wide at the condition of his patient and the messy room. Minutes passed, and the hybrid was now waiting for the pain to subside once his wound was attended to. Lips in a tight line, you sat by the side, waiting for the doctor to say something—anything that will get rid of the awkward air that settled in the room. Instead of something positive, Dr. Hinohara approached you with a dejected expression that caused your heart to momentarily stop beating. His next words almost had you wishing you were sitting down due to the implications of it.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t do this since I am a practitioner of medicine and should have empathy for my patients no matter who they are… But I can’t have Mr. Haitani stay here any longer. You must understand. My other patients have caught a whiff of his presence here and are too scared to come over. I-it’s bad for me.” Dr. Hinohara then added to soften the blow, “If he stays over at your place, I-I promise to visit and check on him from time to time. Although, I doubt I could do much since he’s close to full recovery.”

Bullshit.

It was utter bullshit. There was no way his other patients knew about Rindou being treated in the clinic. Based on the days you visited the hybrid when he was still unconscious, everyone who visited the doctor didn’t display any signs of uneasiness. Yet, you couldn’t do anything to appeal for Rindou anymore since the doctor was more than eager to kick him out. For all you know, the hybrid trashing the room was his last straw.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, you turned the stove off and poured the hot soup into two bowls. The Bonten executive sat on the living room couch, watching a daytime show. He was unbothered by the small space of your apartment, thankfully. Rindou barely fussed upon arriving, probably because he did not have any other choice. Even with his infamous reputation, throwing him out was inhumane.

You wanted to help him, but it has been years since you took care of someone sick or injured. Plus, your mother’s temperament was far different from Rindou's.

“You okay with miso soup?”

Rindou merely grunted in response, avoiding your gaze while he took his bowl from you. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his moodiness, you took the seat across from him prior to drinking the soup you made. For the hybrid to keep sulking like this, you figured it was because his wound hasn't fully healed, and limped every time he walked. Men like Rindou hated weakness. To display his vulnerability to you like this must be torture to the mighty snow leopard hybrid—someone who isn't used to being on the other side of the spectrum.

Yet, he never dismissed your acts of assistance. No matter how much you teased him in an attempt to lighten the mood or receive his narrowed gaze, Haitani Rindou never made a move to hurt you during his stay here. Or at least that is what he's trying to do—to lure you into a sense of comfort before he strikes like an apex predator. Nevertheless, you continued to meet his needs.

“You okay?” you asked him when his spoon fell to the floor. Your legs were up and running to get a towel once you saw what happened. He dropped his spoonful of miso soup on his bandages because his limpid eyes couldn’t be torn from the show he claimed was too boring. “Mr. Haitani, you shouldn't pay attention elsewhere while eating.”

“Can’t help it,” he answered with a scoff. A ghost of a laugh slipped past your mouth at the thought of him acting almost like he was a big cat distracted by the pretty colors that led to this situation. Shaking your head, you wiped off the droplets of miso soup from his thigh. After you tossed the towel to the side, you stood up straight and placed your hands on your thighs. Rindou’s tail went stiff at your stare which was accompanied by a smile. “What?”

“Are you… enjoying the show? I thought you found it boring?” The giggle that followed your inquiry did not go unnoticed by the hybrid. The tips of his ears turning red were proof of that. Hearing no reply, you continued to tease him. Your hands are busy fixing up the couch before taking your bowl once more. “I mean, it’s alright to admit you like these soap operas. My mom enjoys them too, you know. Well, not enough to be—”

“I wasn't distracted,” he huffed and averted his gaze at your silly smile. “I was just… surprised.” Rindou never elaborated further on whatever stunned him. You merely shrugged and slurped your soup, content with sitting next to him on a Thursday morning. This has been your life lately—taking care of breakfast and Rindou in the morning, going to work afterward, and then coming back during lunchtime. Despite the reasons you came up with, your cousin never questioned you as to why you requested to come in later than your usual hour. He did, however, tasked you to stay until closing time. A small price to pay. After all, this isn't going to be the norm forever. Rindou will have to go back home and disappear from your life as soon as his wound heal.

Somehow, the reality had sorrow creeping up your heart. Rindou staying in the apartment and seeing him every day made you think he has always been there. His sulky expression softens up whenever his guard is down. He wasn't even aware the corner of his lips was curling up once. The way he dismisses you the second he realized he was showing happiness was cute in its own way. You were used to stifling your laughter at his displeased face that did not match well with his tail swishing side to side. His silhouette blended into your little space, making himself at home. And unbeknownst to you, Rindou felt the same way.

“Don’t act like such a big baby. It’s good for you!” You pushed the plate of rice with natto on top. His irked expression eased down while he took his chopsticks. The smell of the fermented soybeans did not sit well with his nose as he ate to appease you. Yet, he willingly ate, especially with you grinning in front of him. “There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it? Can’t believe a gangster like you dislikes natto.”

Innocent things like you were bad for his health. You were poison to his system—having him think of stuff he never gave a second thought on. Rindou lost count of how many ideas of him whisking you away where no one else can see you crossed his mind. Everything about you exuded a normal and peaceful life—a luxury for him who couldn’t afford it anymore. He should’ve turned you away and let himself die that night because now he didn’t want to leave. His wound was almost closed up and he didn’t have to limp around or ask for your help whenever he bathed. Rindou has grown far too fond of you to merely go back and forget about your kindness. For your sake, he held himself back and enjoyed you doting on him despite the numerous teasing you’ve thrown his way. Pretty but lethal flowers were only meant to be admired from a safe distance. Preferring to keep his claws hidden and the space between you wide, Haitani Rindou liked it this way.

Until he didn’t—until he got greedy.

Dr. Hinohara just had to burst the bubble Rindou protectively held with a single statement that the hybrid was free to go. You couldn’t describe the emotion that swirled within you, ignorant to the deathly stare Rindou gave the doctor. Dr. Hinohara swallowed thickly at the heat of his gaze, slowly taking a step back in case the hybrid decided to kill him on the spot. The younger Haitani wished he could turn back time and stop the old bastard from revealing his secret. Despite sabotaging the stitches for so long to keep it from healing too fast, Rindou’s game was up. And yet, not all of his cards were played.

His trump card has yet to fall onto the table.

Ran came over to your apartment the second Rindou rang him up after a month of no contact. The reunion happened under the stillness of the night where not a soul could be found on the streets. The chloroform his older brother brought was put to use to make sure you wouldn't scream or do any trouble as he placed you in Ran’s car. Rindou then discarded the baton hidden at the back of the trunk, already cleaned off of Dr. Hinohara’s blood, into the nearest waste bin before letting Ran drive down the road heading south.

The moment you woke up from what you thought was a terrible nightmare, you were chained to a bedpost in an unfamiliar room in someone else’s bed. The collar on your neck was a bit tight and the chain attached to it wasn't long enough for you to reach the door. A little bell was hanging on the collar and it jingled with every movement you made. You thanked your lucky stars that you were still fully clothed but that feeling of relief waned away too fast. Your head pounded while your eyes frantically searched for signs of where you are. Rindou entered the room with a tray of food. His eyes slightly went wide at the discovery of you greeting the conscious world then his lips broke out into a grin.

“I see you’re awake.”

“R-Rindou? W-what… Where am I? What’s going on?”

Your inquiries fell from your mouth like the teardrops on your cheeks at the realization. Rindou hushed you multiple times while he set your meal down on the nightstand but you never took heed, fearing for your life. It wasn't until he took out his phone to show you a picture of your parent’s house that your tongue felt like it was made out of metal. Your hands balled up into fists at the image.

“Don’t hurt them. P-please…”

“Looks like you're smart enough to guess what I’m implying here, huh?” Rindou chuckles at your horrified tear stricken face. “I guess calling you a big baby right now won’t be satisfying.” Hand underneath his chin, the hybrid let out a contented sigh. “I knew I was right. Other girls I’ve met before weren't as intelligent as you. Saves me from explaining what will happen to your family if you try to escape.”

“What do you want from me?” you demanded, nerves and voice shaky. His irises shone brighter than amethysts as he observed you on his bed. After a month of nursing him back to health, Rindou was intent on returning the favor—just without outside interference, of course. There was no way your parents would allow him to date you and to see you with a faceless nobody would be the icing on top of his cake meant to insult him. He can't have that. “Rindou, what do you want? I-I’ll do anything! Just please leave me and my parents alone. If you want an apology for all those days I’ve teased you or said something wrong, I’m w-will to do so!”

“Nothin’ much, angel. I’ve passed the need for anything.” He then pulled you up by the collar of your shirt. Leaning down to whisper into your ear, Rindou’s lips curled up. “I’ve already got you.” The second he spoke those words, a shiver ran down your spine. Not giving you any time to collect your thoughts or to wipe the tears from your cheeks, the Bonten executive took a step back and gestured at your clothes. “Strip.”

Hands trembling, you did as he said. More tears exited from your glossy eyes which Rindou couldn't wait to lick away. As soon as you got rid of your pajamas, you covered your exposed stomach and breasts until he clicked his tongue. You winced at the sound of it.

“All of it, angel.”

You heaved a deep breath. Your panties slid down your legs agonizingly slow. The rest of your body burned in shame under his piercing gaze. It was as if Rindou would be struck by lightning if he dared to look away from your gorgeous form. You steeled yourself once he took away your clothes.

“Go and eat your meal. I’ll be back.”

Rindou shut the door behind him. You couldn't stop crying even while you ate the meal he prepared. It was hard to know where you were as the window was bolted shut and barely let natural light in. Your heart beats wildly inside your chest whereas you stiffened at the sight of him returning. His violet irises landed on the empty plate before nodding approvingly.

“Good. I’m going to give you a drink now.” He took off the chain from the bedpost and pulled it for you to follow him. But not before commanding you to do it on all fours. His sharp canines peeked out when he smiled at your obedience. The fear strumming its chaotic cords to have you obeying the hybrid. “That’s it, angel. Make sure not to bump into anything on the way to the kitchen.”

Even with Rindou as your sole audience, your soul was close to dying out of shame. Your pussy folds were out in the open, clit throbbing uncontrollably for the wrong reasons as you followed him from behind. It didn't take you long to figure out this was Rindou’s house—or his temporary home. You were too busy making sure you were keeping up with his huge steps and not falling behind to scan your surroundings. The hybrid then paused and turned to you. His hand gestured to a bowl made for a pet sitting on the floor. It was filled up with what seemed to be milk.

“Go on. Drink it all up, angel.”

Cheeks burning, you hesitated for a second. It was when he walked behind you that the panic kicked in again and you unwillingly bent down. Your tongue was stuck out, ready to lick up the milk to appease Rindou, deaf to the sound of unzipping. The palm of his hand was cold against your cunt, causing you to yelp. His free hand was quick to keep your head from turning around to see him.

What the fuck is happening?

“You’re not the only one who’s thirsty… Shit, you’re wet?” He was more amused than disgusted at his findings. This was fucked up. There was no way you were turned on despite what occurred. Maybe you were sick in the head all this time and Rindou’s actions just brought this to light? You would never know as your mind started to grow hazy due to the pleasure of him rubbing his palm across your slit. You were no virgin but it has been a long time since you’ve done it. Perhaps that was the reason why?

Why does it feel like that’s a lie?

Retracting his claws, he plunged two of his fingers into your warm pussy that parted easily for him. Front teeth digging into your lower lip, you kept back the moan bubbling up your throat while Rindou rubbed his fingers against your tight walls. Slick coated his hand which made it easier for him to feel around your gummy walls. His pleased groans were too much for your ears, his hard length brushing on your ass. His tail swished around before curling around your leg. Your hands keeping you upright were trembling as the onslaught of bliss was increasing, gaze glossy.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight… Are you going to let me fuck you, angel? Huh? Does my pet deserve this dick?” he questioned with mirth in his tone. Another finger was added, widening your hole. You couldn’t help the whine leaving your lips, eyes shut as you fought back more from coming out. Rindou held you by the waist when your legs gave out, cooing into your ear. The hybrid brought up his hand coated with your juices, inhaling it then tasted your slick. “It’s that good? I’ve waited so long. Held back and let you have your way. You’ll let me have you, mhm? Been good, angel. The least you can do is return the favor…” A silent gasp was what Rindou earned when he tapped the head of his cock against your pussy folds, rubbing his length on the damp flesh. Slowly, he entered you.

“A-are you gonna—ah!” You were sure he was going to tear you apart. It stung as the girth of his cock stroked your tight muscles, molding its shape there. Rindou took a few seconds to get accustomed to the way your pussy enveloped his dick, hissing under his breath at how heavenly you felt. And now that he has finally held you, Haitani Rindou was damn sure he has found his mate. Now, he will make sure to keep you by his side whether you want to or now. He’ll just have to give you something that will make you reluctant to leave… Or fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk out of this place without him. Maybe getting you pregnant will be the solution to this problem. “Ah, fuck… S’ big. R-rindou!”

“Angel, wanna give you cubs. You’d want that, huh? You want to be mine?”

His thrusts were hard and rough, causing you to moan and squirm. Lust rendered you blind as you took and took what Rindou gave. Time was no longer relevant at this point. All you could remember as he continued to fuck you like a savage beast during the mating season was the way his claws dug into your skin, marking you as his. The place’s layout slowly etched itself into your mind as he made it his mission to fuck you in every area with the endeavor of filling up your womb until all you could feel was his cum running down your thighs. Your breasts and nipples hurt after going through the abuse done by his mouth. Hickeys littered your torso and the skin of your neck. Clit and folds puffy, you couldn’t tell how many times you have squirted. Rindou always patted your head each time before tugging your nipples in a teasing way. The collar still wrapped around your neck jingled along with your breasts, soaked with your sweat and tears.

“R-Rindou! I-I can’t—”

“Yes, you can, angel. You can take more.”

He never gave you a break or a minute to rest and catch your breath. The moment he finished inside you, his balls emptied another load, replacing the cum he spurted into your cunt that dribbled out. Mind all in a mush, you sobbed at the overstimulation. Finally, the hybrid set you down on the couch, panting above you. A puddle of your essence and Rindou’s cum sat around your ass. The furniture wasn’t the only unfortunate victim of its owner’s quest to impregnate you and claim you. Mouth wide open, your eyes were fluttering shut due to exhaustion. Yet even as you stared at Rindou with those tired eyes, he held his cock glazed with both of your fluids right in front of your face in expectancy. The tip was red and super sensitive after hitting your cervix countless times while he fucked your brains out.

“Don’t tap out on me, angel,” he mumbled. Mustering up all your leftover strength, you sat up and licked on the reddish tip, earning a pleased groan. His hand reached forward to brush away the strands of hair from your face then carded his fingers through them. “Good girl. Always remember this, okay? Good kittens should clean up after playing. Good kittens shouldn’t make a mess.”

[pornocunt]

leon likes getting slapped and beaten around by his gf… you have to understand. you have to!! PLEASE!! he gets so painfully hard after a hard slap and a yank to his hair 😓

[ofallthingsnasty]

Scenario where Arlongs human pet falls pregnant 👉👈

oh, anon, you're so evil... i love it 😔💕

references this post

tw.minors dni, forced pregnancy, noncon, dehumanization, mutilation mention, read the tags and read them twice

It's simultaneously the best and worst thing that can happen to you in this situation.

The best because it provides you with a breather of sorts - and the worst because well, you're pregnant with that man's child. You might think he’d be angry with you - far from that, actually. The moment he catches on, he’ll be nothing but thoroughly pleased with himself. It means that he has fully tainted you, claimed every inch of your body. Of course you'd get knocked up, he'll say, how could your little human womb ever withstand his seed. And if he hasn’t called you his little cow before - he’s definitely going to, now. As utterly humiliating it is to have him smile down at you with nothing but smug malice, it also elevates your status significantly. Suddenly there is a place to sleep for you, even regular meals. No more crawling around on all fours to amuse him or the crew, no more heavy feet on your back when he decides he’d rather use you as a footstool, no more hands all over your body, pinching, groping, slapping you - and, most importantly, no more impromptu violence, at least to the extent you experienced beforehand. That little thing in you is far too valuable to torture its vessel over and risk losing it. (And he’ll tell you all about it - that he’s only being so nice to you because you’re carrying his child.) Does it mean that you’re suddenly living an almost normal life despite the circumstances? Absolutely not. You’ll still need to make yourself useful to him - you’re still their little maid-servant and work from dusk to dawn, still have to serve Arlong to your best abilities - but the abuse shifts from physical to verbal. It’s still hard, but with a full belly, a decent place to sleep and without the looming threat of getting drowned just for fun, harsh words are way, way easier to withstand than before. He is obsessed with your bump - he definitely makes you wear clothing that emphasizes it the moment you even start to remotely show. It’s the deepest form of branding to him and he develops a sick pleasure in showing you off to your old friends and family in the village that you used to call your home. He parades you around like he just bred his pedigree dog, talks on and on about how you’ve finally fully submitted and saw the light, saw what’s best for you, how you know your place - all to the mortification of the people you used to know. He’ll make a whole show of getting you examined by your old town doctor, makes sure you’re at every check-up, each time a little fuller than before, showing off your progress. (And god have mercy on them if they try to help you get rid of it because it’s an open secret that this pregnancy is entirely unwanted. He’ll slit them open top to bottom on the town square and threaten to cut your feet off - if you dare to kill his offspring he’ll simply fuck another one in you, he’ll say, expression beyond good and evil. You’ll lose a finger for the attempt; if you try again, it’ll be a limb.)

Not to mention that he’s ravenous. It’s like a switch has been flipped in his brain - where he has forced himself on you in the past to get his dick wet, to get some use out of you, he suddenly can’t keep his hands to himself because of some new-found attraction. And the more you’re showing, the worse it gets. He’ll fuck you until the day you’re due, no matter how much you complain or how straining it is for you. It’s something he retains until after you’ve given birth - from that moment on, you’ve gone from the human toy to his little breeding stock and he’ll make sure to put you to good use. You’ll never be empty again if he can help it - he’s found a new ‘feature’ of yours to exploit and he’s going to keep at it until you’re a shell of your former self, until you collapse.

And you better hope the baby takes more after him than you - he’s not going to be kind to a little half fish-man who looks more like a human than him. That poor baby has a beyond bleak future in front of them. (Don’t even think of trying to escape with your child - he’ll make you regret it every single day of your remaining life, that’s for sure.)

[navybrat817]

navy!!! imagine this with possessive soft!dark!mafia!bucky or soft!dark!king!bucky 😭🤌🏻✨

him refusing to let go of her, even when the doctor came to treat her. he can't let go of her, not when she took a bullet/arrow for him. though he already curated 101 ways torture the culprit but for now, his sweet girl needs him.

(or rather he needs her. he needs to feel her heartbeat against his own because he can't afford to lose the love of his life.)

like please--

anyway! i hope you have a good day ahead 🩵🤍

My lovely, I ADORE this. The hurt/comfort, yes. Give it to me.

@targaryenvampireslayer and I are working on something and this fits PERFECTLY with this atmosphere. Stay tuned!!!

Love and thanks! ❤️

[theshypinkflower]

🎃 Kinktober ~ Pumpkin Patch/Bruises

🧨Derek Goffard (Day 7)

Domestic volence, public bj, kicking, physical abuse, Derek being a shit boyfriend, dubcon

Fall was always such a peaceful time, at least it used to be. You don't know how long you had been with Derek, but you knew it was long enough for you to see the seasons change. The hot summer air slowly turned into a cool autumn breeze. Leafy green leaves changed colors into hues of red and orange before detaching from their branches, drifting slowly to the ground to be raked into neat piles. 

Derek was always more of the adventurous one. He was the one who'd take you out late into the night for some mischief, just tonight. All your friends said you could do better! Derek was an asshole, an abusive pompous asshole. You couldn't lie to your friends, in all honesty you sometimes thought the same as them, but you saw how sweet he could be, occasional snuggling, gifts, and not to mention he was always taking you out. 

Derek carefully stepped over the barbed wire of the farm, not bothering to help you step over. He was such a romantic! “Derek,” you spoke in a whisper, “we shouldn't be here this late. What if we get caught?” He rolled your eyes at your paranoia, “You want a pumpkin, right?” He asked with a slightly irritated tone.

“Yeah but-”

“But what? I'm taking you out aren't I? I'm doing what you asked of me, be grateful I'm letting myself be seen with you!”

Seen with you only in the dead of night that is. You sighed and the two of you walked through the grass towards the large patch of pumpkins. With the flashlight from your phone, you began inspecting the pumpkins while Derek hovered over you.

“Oh! How about this one?” You asked, going to pick up a decently sized pumpkin only for Derek to step harshly on your foot. You let out a painful yelp as Derek laughed, “Careful now, wouldn't want to wake whatever geezer owns this farm!”

You tried to remove his hand from underneath his shoe, but he only dug his heel further into your hand, practically crushing it. Derek could only laugh as you struggled. He crouched down, whispering in your ears, “You're a damn moron to think I didn't see those texts with your friends,” he said.

Your eyes widened in fear as he continued, “You think I'm a dick, huh? You think you deserve me to be nice on our little ‘dates.’ Well lemme tell you something, little cunts like you don't deserve nice dates.” In a swift motion, he kicked your gut and laughed. You let out a pained cry as you laid on the ground and held your gut in pain.

“Please- please!” You said in a sob, “I didn't mean it…” you tried pleading. “No? But you seemed SoOoOoo insistent I'm a bad boyfriend!” Derek said with a laugh as he once more kicked you. This wasn't the first time Derek had done something like this. In fact just a couple days ago he left plenty of bruises on your thighs after you supposedly embarrassed him at a party he took you to. 

Derek stepped on your thigh, making sure to try and step where he left bruises last time. He smiled as you winced in pain, securing the notion that he hit a bruise. He removed his foot, “On your knees,” he ruthlessly commanded. 

“W-what? Here? In a-”

“What the fuck did I say? On your knees. Now. You're gonna make it up to me.”

You frowned and shifted to your knees, hating the pain of sitting on the bruises along your shin. Derek continued to smirk as he unzipped his pants, letting his cock free and gripping your scalp. “Open up, bitch,” he ordered and you reluctantly opened your mouth. 

He used your hair to guide your mouth onto his cock, shuddering at the feeling of your warm mouth around him. His hips were slow at first, but they gradually picked up the pace until you were gagging and choking on his length. “Haha! C'mon! Better be quiet if you don't wanna get caught!” Derek cackled as he fucked your throat.

Tears welled up in your eyes, you had the urge to vomit with how he abused your gag reflex, but you knew better than to vomit all over his pants! Saliva dribbled down your chin and onto your shirt with each rude thrust. He moaned rather loudly while he fucked your throat, making sure to let you up for air now and then so he could slap you. 

Derek's shoes pressed harshly against your crotch, making sure to grind his shoe into you while he used your mouth. You couldn't help but whine in pain. Your boyfriend was just so mean! But oh God this felt so good. It was so embarrassing getting your throat used like this on someone's property, having him press into your bruises and make you cry. You wanted to squeeze your thighs together in hope of some relief, but his shoe was stopping that.

You instead began humping his shoe. This sight caused him to laugh, “Awwww, are you getting off on my shoe like a stupid dog? Ya know what, that's fitting for you!” Derek exclaimed as you continued to hump and hump and hump. 

The mixture of gags and moans was so enjoyable for Derek. His thrusts got sloppier as he got close, he could feel his cock ache as it was forced down your throat. Just as he was about to cum, he shoved your head all the way down to the base, your nose pressing against his pelvis. He moaned loudly as thick ropes went straight to your stomach.

The feeling was gross, but it felt so good that it made you cum after humping his shoe so much. As usual, you swallowed all that he gave you. If you spilled a single drop it would only lead to more consequences for poor ol' you. You never came home with a pumpkin to carve, but it didn't really matter. 

Derek would just spend Halloween carving into you.

[6eeznut]

I swear i said "i hate you" but my soul and my twitching cock says otherwise.

Uchiha Sasuke x Chubby!Reader

A/N : this is the first time i make a fanfic :} sorry if this is so bad but i want to try to make a fanfic from a longg time and if this one was bad, then... i'm just gonna say sorry 😔 also i want to make more Naruto x Chubby reader because i rarely see Naruto x Chubby reader, since theres only a few of those that doing Naruto x Chubby reader so i was like "fine. i'll do it Myself." anyway enjoy! :D

TW : Bad Grammar, First-ever Fanfic of mine, Bullying, Denial, Noncon - Dubcon, Violence, Meanie!Sasuke, Jealousy, Stalking, Noncon-taking Pictures, Degrading, Yandere (put this here just incase cus i had no idea 💀), Tsundere.

Uchiha Sasuke who is in denial when he caught his eyes on a chubby!reader. he tried to resist the fact that he's in love with someone that isnt even a match with his benefits. he'll look down at you and calling you mean word, he tried to make his own self move-on from you by busying himself, but neither of that work. in fact, he gets more and more in love, and more & more obsessed.

He's confused. why would he be in love with someone that didnt even match a single thing he has? he's smart, handsome, could pull anyone he wants yet he's in love with someone who is a complete opposite of his. this is ridiculous. this is dumb. he thinks you put a magic love spell on him. he fucking hates you. yet he still 'silently' following you everywhere you go. until he sees that you're getting closer to someone, he's gonna be annoyed. why would you hang out with them anyway? and he's gonna lose it when he knows that the person you talking to has a feelings for you. oh boy, he's gonna lose it!!

He tried to calm himself down. "this is so fucking ridiculous." thats all he said, yet his mind is still fulled by you and your stupid soft tummy. he really really lose it when the person that likes you trying to touch you, kiss you, and just trying to be more and more closer to you. he'd be coming from somewhere you cant see him coming and beat the shit out of that person, and after that he's gonna drag you up with him wheter you want it, or not.

and after that, he'll take you with him. he'll lock you up in room that you could consider as his and dont be surprised when you see the room is filled with a plenty photos of yours that you never take. in the darkness of the room, Sasuke will come up right in front of you, from the darkness. & in a mere of a second with his hand, he grip your neck hardly, almost choking you. and making you whimper. "didnt you fucking know how long i've been suffer seeing you hang out with someone!? happy without me!? are you really that dumb you dont even realize that there's someone who is much better than those that is in love with you!?" and while he said that with his ROCK-HARD cock that has been anching and twitching since he sees you.

and with that, he's gonna make you on your knees for him, and suck him off until he'd dried out while he saying something like "i fucking hate you" and we all know he didnt really mean it. in fact that was the time where he come so fucking hard in such a short time, and still he's unsatisfied.

And at the end of the day all of your faces is going to be covered by his dripping cum and your saliva, & he's gonna give you the messiest and the sloppiest kiss you've ever imagine. he cant help but chuckle when he see your eyes rolled back when you suck him off, he thinks its funny, hot and also cute (lol). but when he heard you say "are we d-done?" with cum dripping out of your mouth, his reaction would be a smirk ;) because the real fun has just begun. also he really wants to humiliate play with that soft tummy of yours so... Good (fucking) Luck :D.

[mlmbutmakeitgay]

"You're incredibly brave..." | Rafael Barba x GN!Reader 🩹🌸

Fandom: Law & Order: SVU

Pairing: Rafael Barba x GN!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Random attack, Reader gets beat up, Hospital stay, Carisi & Benson around for a sec

Summary:You are in the hospital after a random attack on the streets, and at the same time of your emergency contact (Boyfriend Rafael) being called, the detectives come to talk to you.

I POSTED THIS ON MY SECOND ACCOUNT ON ACCIDENT. HERE IS THE LINK TO THE ACTUAL FIC ON MY MAIN FANFICTION ACCOUNT.

[depravitymoon]

The Dark Side Of Narancia (cont)

This is part 2 to my Yandere Narancia post. I wanted the previous post to still be considered Safe For Work horror. Now, this post gets more violent and Not SFW. Furthermore, thank you guys SO MUCH for getting it over 250+ notes. I was not expecting it to get that popular. 

Note: Some of Narancia’s dialogue is in all caps. Yes, I know that can be annoying but it’s on purpose because Narancia’s being annoyingly unhinged.

Warning: Violence, Dub-Con, Non-Con, Knifeplay.

Level 7: 

For most darlings, they’d only see Level 6 Narancia. Level 7 Narancia is if you really insist he’s an asshole and to destroy his delusions.

This results in Narancia getting violent with you. He holds you down and warns you to stop being an ass. 

If you continue to resist, he’ll cut you.

If you keep trying to fight him (or worse, start a stand fight), he’ll use Aerosmith to shoot up your legs. Have fun trying to fight/escape him now.

Also, your closest loved ones are now free game to injure (or worse).

“I GIVE YOU MY HEART AND YOU FUCKING BETRAY ME?! Whoever is making you feel this way, I WILL FUCKING KILL THEM!”

Not SFW + Level 7: 

Since fucking solves marital problems in movies….. fucking must be the solution to your behavior!

Narancia loves knife play. Plus being on-edge, he’s sliding that knife against your body. 

To clarify, he’s sliding the flat part against your skin…..unless you keeping fighting him.

Typically, the blade part is tearing at your clothes. Don’t worry! Narancia will pay for more clothes! 

Trust Narancia! He’s gonna make you feel so good! 

He’ll overstimulate you without mercy. You’re relaxed, right? You forgive him, right? 

While he tries to fuck you gently, he's too mad. He ends up fucking you like he hates you.

It's a good thing he still preps you, because his thrusts show no mercy.

C’mon! You’ll never find a lover that can please you like he can! He’s not stopping until you forgive him!

Narancia has high stamina, so it is possible for him to go multiple rounds a night.

You’ll be forced to forgive him if you want the ‘love making’ to end. 

“I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU, MIELO! SAY IT! SAY IT RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” “STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! I WORK SO HARD FOR US TO WORK! I ALREADY SAID SORRY! FUCKING FORGIVE ME ALREADY!” 

Not SFW + Level 1 to 6:

Narancia's thoughts on consent? OPTIONAL. You're not in the mood? You dont want to fuck Narancia at all? Just let him fuck you and you'll change your mind! You wont regret it.

Knifeplay is still there, but if he’s in a good mood, you can talk him down and he’ll discard the switchblade.

He focuses on getting you off. Oral is his favorite method. He’s always worried his hands are too rough for fingering/Handjobs.

He’ll still overstimulate you and pleasure you without mercy. How can you think about other people when he treats you so good?! 

Only an idiot can't see how good he is to you and he knows you're smarter than that!

He’ll force you to look him in the eyes while you two fuck missionary.

“Mielo! Don’t look away! You have so many sexy faces! It drives me wild!” 

Extra Notes:

Narancia doesn’t like being considered a baby nor cute. That doesn’t stop him from acting like a cute baby to his advantage. Just dont say it to his face. 

Narancia also pays your bills to keep you dependent on him. This is an aged up Narancia, so he should have some semblance of  adult responsibilities.

I still can’t see him kidnapping you. I dont think Narancia really wants that responsibility and I doubt the Bucci gang would allow him to take him that responsibility. Invading your home and paying the bills seems more efficient.

When Narancia doesn’t care about someone, he’s extremely willing to resort to violence.  Even burn down a whole street, remember? Before he tries to hurt you, he will hurt your loved ones. 

In fact, Narancia can unintentionally blackmail you into obeying him. I say unintentionally because he was about to stab your cousin for insisting you dump Narancia, but you doing what Narancia wants distracts him from his bloodlust. 

Conclusion

Narancia may be the cutest yandere of the Bucci Gang, but he's not harmless. As a consequence of being so childlike, he's unhinged and prone to temper tantrums. Personally, I'd suggest manipulating him so his dark side is tolerable. Just dont make it obvious you're manipulating him, because he will take betray harder than anyone else.

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Cage-Fighter x Fem!Reader

'Paying bills ain't easy'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Toxic behavior, traditionally masculine roles, power dynamics, violence, murder, jealousy, subpar spanish, cursing, mentions of sex, description of unsafe neighborhoods.

(AN: I know I said I was working on the part two for the fae fic, and a fashion designer piece, but the idea for this guy hit me like a train. Apologies for any Spanish mistakes, I'm coming along in my learning!)

The sound of raucous cheering rings out throughout the crowd of the 'Dog Pit' Den, Harlem's most prolific underground fighting spot. Fighters from all over the city come here to try and earn a living wage. Backbreaking, degrading work, boxing, kicking, and spitting in the no-rules ring. A crack, a cheer, and the sound of a collapsing body, before the announcer yells that Matias Lopez has taken yet another challenger down. A sweaty, tanned man hops back and forth on his feet, arms raised in the air as he celebrates his victory.

"Ladies and gentleman, Matias 'The Mayhem' has taken down yet another challenger! You know what that means! Make some noise!" The announcer yells, and the room shakes with boos and cheers, the stomping of feet making the ground tremble. "Matias Lopez has won the 500 dollar Rookie Fighters Championship prize!" Another round of yells, and Matias spits on the ground. He makes his way out of the cage, kissing the rosary his mother always makes him wear, even when he's cracking skulls in an illegal cage-fighting circuit. To be fair, she doesn't know. He sighs, tearing his fist-wrappings off and running a hand through his sweaty locks. He changes out of his outfit, switching into a casual gray hoodie, a pair of sweats, and some slides. After reapplying deodorant, he hears someone outside. One of the guys who runs the 'Dog Pit' has come to give him his check.

"Yo, Matias, my man!" He greets, slapping a hand on Matias's toned shoulder. "Me and some of the 'execs' as we've taken to calling ourselves are gonna hit the club', you in?" Mattias, clicks his tongue, and shakes his head. "Nah man, not tonight. I gotta get home n' see my girl. I was supposed to be home earlier." He glances down at the floor. "Shit, alright man, here's your check. I'll see you later." Mattias nods as the man heads out, stuffing the check into his duffle bag, before sliding out the alley exit.

Matias and you have been dating for a little over a year now. Both of you met in a pretty rough part of town, he was working a day-job at a gas station, and you were a cafe worker. He'd come in occasionally, claiming that the gas station coffee just wasn't up to his standards. He scared you, at first. Mattias has a very tough exterior, tattoos and muscles, but an even tougher interior. He was kind of stoic when you first met, and you couldn't quite get a read on him. He wasn't outwardly flirty or affectionate, which is why it took six weeks of him stopping by the coffee shop for him to pull you aside and ask what he was doing wrong, and why you weren't picking up on his advances. You had explained, and shortly after that you began dating. It was only a month or so into dating when you had learned of his cage-fighting career, but he assured you that he was tough, and no guy was gonna hurt him. You both needed the money on the side, so you reluctantly agree. That's what leads up to where you are now, passed out on your couch, waiting for him to come home.

He heads towards your shared apartment as quickly as he can, taking the subway about 8 blocks east, before running up the fire escape to the flat's balcony. He knows you deadbolted the door any time past 8:00, and doesn't blame you. It's kind of a dangerous neighborhood, and he feels bad enough leaving his girl home alone as much as he does.

"Pobre mami, espero que no me haya esperado." (Poor mami, hope she didn't wait up for me.) He pulls up the window, making sure to slip in quietly, in case you had already gone to sleep. As he places one foot on the floor, the wood barely creaks beneath him, when he hears a soft groan coming from the couch.

"Matty?" You mumble, sitting up from the plush couch and rubbing your eyes, trying to make out his large silhouette. He sighs, tossing his bag to the side as he stretches "Hey, hermosa, did I wake you up?" He asks, looking at you with his usual hooded gaze. "I guess, I don't think I was asleep that long..." You run a hand through your hair. "How'd it go?" He smiles softly, chuckling. "You know me, baby, I don't lose." He sits on the arm of the couch. "Gotchu' five hundred dollars, gonna' get you something real pretty with it." You sigh, and shake your head. "You've got me plenty of gifts, what we should be doing is saving up for somewhere else to live." You explain. He shrugs. "Yeah, you right, you right. That's my bad." He puts his hands up in surrender. "Well, if you aren't gonna let me get you somethin' pretty, you outta lemme' take ya to bed." Before you can react, he scoops you up in his arms, causing you to squeak.

"Don't scare me like that, God!" You smack his chest, but your hand only bounces off his firm pecs. e chuckles. "Gonna' have to hit harder than that, mami." He flicks off the living room light as he carries you to your shared bed. He lays you down, gently this time as opposed to the times he throws you on the bed, usually to pin you down and tickle you, saying things like '¿Qué pasa, bonita? Solo empújame, no es tan difícil...' (What's wrong, Pretty? Just push me off, it's not that hard...). Sometimes though, his manhandling isn't that innocent. As you snuggle down into the bed, Matias strips off his hoodie, and you blush at the way the light coming in through the blinds hits his chest. He lets out a soft groan, as the plush mattress and soft bed sheets soothe his sore body. Matias bites his lips as his eyes trace over your sleepy form, and he rolls over onto his side, tucking an arm around your waist.

"Mmm, no Matias... m' too tired tonight." You whisper, your face scrunching up. Matias was never a very soft guy. Playful and devilish, sure, but soft? No. His hands were calloused from years of bruising skin and bloodying faces, working and scrounging every penny he can get to get a better life for himself. Deep down, he couldn't imagine placing these damaged, dangerous hands on something as soft and sweet as you. He could snap you in half if he desired, and the thought terrifies him.

"What, no baby... I'm not tryna' smash at-" He looks over at the clock. "Shit, 1:00 am already? Jesus Christo..." He turns back to you. "Just wanna hold you, mami." He presses his long torso up against the curve of your back, pressing his face into your curls and inhaling your scent. "You feeling okay?" You ask. He knows he doesn't. He knows he should have been home for you sooner, and it didn't help that he had to make a stop on the way back home.

He feels a sense of dread in his stomach. You won't ever know about the stop he made, you were asleep. Besides, he comes home late all the time. What you will learn about is your bloodied new co-worker being found with his skull smashed in, just a few blocks from the cafe. Due to the graphic scene he left behind, it's sure to be on the morning news. Matias hadn't expected your new friend to be working the late shift, but he was still on an adrenaline high from the fight, and god... he couldn't stand the idea of that bitch getting to spend more time with you than him. He wants to be home for you more, he does, but he can't. Still, that doesn't mean he's going to let any other guy fill that void. Hell no.

"I'm fine, Hermosa. Just sore from the fight, wanna' hold my baby." He whispers, placing a chapped kiss on the shell of your ear, making you flinch. "That tickles..." You giggle. He smiles, and squeezes you gently. "C'mon, stop being silly. Necesitas descansar, especialmente después de quedarte despierto para mí." (You need to sleep, especially after staying up for me.) He scolds. You roll over to face him, and tuck your head into the crook of his neck. "Love you, Matty." You sleepily coo, before drifting off in his arms. He freezes, his breath labored for a minute as he looks down at you. Even now, after dating for so long, he can't process the softness of you juxtaposed with the beatings he both takes and gives every other weeknight. It's a transition he sometimes struggles to handle. He feels a smile creep onto his face, and he curls your small form into him, practically cradling you against his broad chest. God, he'll take on an extra five challengers next time, all for you.

"Gonna get you a penthouse baby, real nice neighborhood too. Somewhere safe, somewhere that makes me feel better about leavin' you all alone..." He whispers, knowing you can't really hear him. "Better not have anyone but me over, no fucker's from work, aight'? I'll kick the shit out of any of em' just for you..."

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Decisions

Pairing: Dark Ramsay Bolton x (female) Reader

SUMMARY: Lesson number 1: never trust Ramsay Bolton.

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

WARNINGS: Murder.

Please, reblog and give me feedback.

I was supposed to wait a bit before posting this, but I wanted to share so here it goes :)

--

“Choose.”

You stop breathing for a moment, eyes widening at the situation before you.

Both your mother and father shackled to their prison cells, the cruel treatment they have received obvious as their bodies are unhealthily skinny, their faces hollow while blood and fluids stick to their torn clothes.

You can hardly recognize them as your noble parents. 

Ramsay wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder and a mocking tone inflecting as he speaks.

“Go on, tell me your decision. Which one is the unlucky parent?”

“Ramsay, please…don’t make me do this.” 

His hand jumps to your throat, turning you towards him. An amused expression covering his face.

“As much as I’m having fun, love, my patience is starting to run thin. So you can either choose one or I’ll be the one deciding which one of my beloved in-laws will be joining my parents in the high heavens.” his lips open into a large grin, madness reflected in his eyes. 

Dropping your eyes to the floor, you twist your hands in an array of anxiety and despair.

“My father.” your voice is barely a whisper, a stray tear escaping your eye at the life-haunting decision you just made. 

“Aha, I knew it!” Ramsay claps his hands in delight, the pleas and cries of your parents breaking your heart.

“Forgive me, father-in-law, but it seems like your time here has ended. It was genuinely nice knowing you, if I may say. The same for you, my lady.”

At the sound of his hounds being released, you turn around only to realize how much of a mistake it was.

Your mouth drops in horror as the ear-piercing screams of father alongside your mother fill the dungeon, but it doesn't compare to the shock of seeing the hounds ripping the flesh of both your father and your mother.

"No, no! Ramsay, no, you promised me… I did chose…” you grab his arm, pleading.

“My sweet little wife, so trusting.” he caresses your cheek, index finger touching your quivering bottom lip and he leans forward, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“You should’ve known by now that I’m not a man of my word, am I?”

[degenrcy]

roger's family -> ticci toby dark fic

warnings: omgggg dead dove do NOTTT eat this actually sick and twisted (incest, underage, rape, death, violence, EVERYTHING)

when lyra died, a part of your family died with her. no one was ever the same. no one recovered. all of you just got worse and worse.

you missed your big sister, your little brain could barely comprehend that she was never coming home from the hospital, or the box they sent her down in, or that she was in that little tiny box in the center of the fireplace with her pictures and other things of hers scattered around. you missed your mom and dad picking you up from school or driving you to the park or driving to get ice cream... driving around, sitting in the backseat watching the roads and trees and big huge buildings go by. no one wanted to drive you anywhere since lyra drove and died.

you missed toby the most. he was your big brother, but not older than your sister, so he used to actually like being around you. now he hated you. he hated himself. he hated your parents. everyone. he scared you now.

when your dad first caught him hitting you, he grabbed him by his shirt and threw him to the side. everyone started yelling, and sitting in the middle of it all was little you. dad yelled at toby for hurting you, mom yelled at dad for yelling at toby, toby yelled at dad for yelling at him, toby yelled at you for being a constant reminder, mom started crying, toby rolled up his sleeves and all you saw were red lines, mom started screaming and dad yelled some more... then everyone was quiet for the rest of the day. you sat alone in bed all day. you didn't know you were hurting your brother so much. maybe it was alright he got you back once in a while. bruises are nothing to bleeding. maybe you deserved it.

you did deserve it. it made you sad toby hurt himself, you should be doing it instead. that is what he told you after all, holding you down on the bed as he caressed your bare, smooth arm. you were untouched. toby hated that, he had to make sure you felt what he did. why did it have to be lyra?

"toby please!" you sobbed, pleading with your big brother. it hurt so much, you couldn't handle it like you said.

"s-shut the f-fuck up!" he spat, his fingers wrapping tighter around your much thinner wrists. even his tics were getting worse. toby just got worse and worse around you.

at night you imagined lyra comforting you again, doing your hair nicely and letting you use some of her lip gloss. she would drive you, and toby, out to get food or shopping. she'd let you guys get some free stuff from her job. she'd still be right next door to you, waking you up the next morning to get you ready for school. she'd tell toby to get out your room, to stop touching under your clothes and to stop leaving marks all over you. it hurt to press at them during recess, sitting against the wall of the school.

everyone played, and you could only imagine running away from home. never taking the bus back. lyra would never pick you up from school again.

during class you'd burst into tears all the time. you were a baby, crying for anyone to see you. to see past your dead sister, to see toby luring you into dad's shed to show you stuff he found. you start crying when he shows you the dead animals. "i-it's gonna be you n-n-next, y/n. if you tell a-anyone, you'll be just-"

he slammed the hatchet down on the poor little bunny. its feet stopped kicking, it stopped squirming. the head slid off the sharp end of the blade, leaving gross stringy muscles and dark blood across the wooden floor. "like that." toby threw the hatchet to the side, making you flinch. you fell to your knees, sniffling.

toby's eyes held no emotion as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his muddied/bloodied/ripped jeans, stepping closer to you.

your bed wetting was chalked up to... lyra's death. your lack of appetite, poor school attendance and participation, overall presence and consciousness... surely it was all about your dead sister. no one cared about you and it was all your fault. that's what toby said at least, and the last thing he said before he went off the rails and lashed out on the rest of the family. he went away for a little bit, and suddenly your skin was free of bruises and scratches, your parents saw you smiling.

and when toby came back, it was like your little life had been sucked out of you again. you were refusing showers, change of clothes, food, light, water, air, living.

you wished it was you instead of lyra. toby liked her more. he would have never done this to her.

"please, toby, i can't..." he was already tugging off your skirt as soon as your parents left you two upstairs. his cold hands ran up and down your bare legs and touched you between your thighs. he sniffed your hair, shakily breathing into your ear. he waited so long. pretended to be better for so long.

his fingers tasted like iron around your tongue. you two share the nail and skin biting habit. this was all your fault.

years after she died, years after you died alongside her, residing in toby's relentless grasp of your bones and every fiber of your being, he finally snapped on all of you. he threatened to kill dad, mom stayed back looking in horror. you sat in the middle. mom looked at you for once. she ran to the bathroom and threw up, then forced your dad to throw toby out. never let him come back. he's sick, perverted, psycho.

that night your curtains were on fire. mom and dad were no where to be found. 3 men dragged you out of your room and into the shed, ripping you apart and burning you too from the inside. you knew one was toby. you could tell by the way he slammed your head into the blood soaked wooden floor. it was sticky and crawling with maggots. splinters needled into your knees, small body barely able to hold yourself up as your brother showed no mercy. he grunted into your ear saying dirty words, the other two masked men watching silently, coldly.

you screamed and retched, begging falling on deaf, disinterested ears. you watched your house engulf in flames, reflecting in your glazed over eyes.

lyra would kill toby for what he's done in the name of grief. this was just how he was. what he became. he finally found a good enough excuse. you were just a little girl. the baby of the family. you had no time to dream about your sisters return, only to fear your brother's. he shackled you up in the shed, starving you for days before coming back for you again. he poked your spine and turned you over to face him. his hatchet, rusted over and caked in dirt and blood, in his gloved hands.

soon enough you'd melt between the floor boards, seep into the earth below you. you'd drip down every layer of the earth, and you'd meet your big sister at the core. you'd shoot back into the sky with enough force to burn toby's skin off and enough to break all his bones and rip out his organs through the gaps of his evil soul. you'd be a butterfly, the sky, a bunny, headless in a filthy, reeking shed. over and over again for eternity. toby would never suffer, he'd kill anyone before they get the chance. he'd have friends that help him get away with it. he'll get away with much worse after doing this, killing his own sister.

tears poured over the bridge of your nose as you braced for impact, heaving into your arms. a faux sense of protection. even if your weak arms covered your neck, he'd have more fun cutting right through them anyways. he told you he always hated you. that he was just saving you from a lifetime of pain anyways. all with a smile on his face, hole in his cheek. not that you were listening. there was a knock on the door, then a slam to the floor. then another. and another, another, until your bones were chipping away and your brains were splattering on his boots and the walls and spreading your pollen all over the field and growing white flowers through the cracks in the floor. lyra pushes your hair out of your face, a sad look in her eyes.

she asks you if toby hurt your feelings, and you can only close your eyes and melt into her touch. clouds overtake you, and she's carrying you to your bed after falling asleep on the couch. she lays you in a dirt pile and tucks you in. toby throws his head back as he relieves himself over you one last time- not actually the last, he'll be back to visit your grave. he'll leave some flowers in your mouth and tummy and laugh himself to death. not before wilting everyone around him, cutting every limb off until his axe splits, desire insatiate until everyone feels what he feels.

you lay with hands over your chest in a dress your family bought you for your birthday. you tell lyra to stay a bit longer, to not go out driving in this weather. you are grown up and tell her everything before it happens. toby lunges at you with a knife and kills you anyways. in every way, every universe, he stops you from ever telling.