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lenacosse · 3 months

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hello! can you please write tangerine x reader where he and his wife are working on the same mission without knowing it. she has ladybug as her usual partner and they have to pretend to be husband and wife. at some point, ladybug and tangerine are fighting and since ladybug wants a break from it, he’s like « wait, my wife’s coming » and when tangerine turns around its actually HIS wife

What?

pairing: tangerine x reader

cw: violence, strong language

word count: 3,842

(laughing cause this turned into the whole movie, obviously not cannon accurate but i had so much fun writing this)

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"Alright that's me," you say as you zip your suitcase, you were going out to Japan to work on a mission with Ladybug. Tangerine did not know where you were actually going, when you first started dating you didn't tell him your job because it was too dangerous and you didn't want to scare him away and when things got serious between you both you were too scared to tell him because you didn't want to jeopardise things between you both so you fabricated a seamless lie about your occupation and he didn't suspect a thing.

"Same here," replies Tangerine. You walk towards him and put on hand on his bicep the other on the side of his neck, his hands go to your waist.

"Try not to miss me too much," you tease, a playful smirk forming at the corners of your mouth.

"Same can be said for you love." Tangerine winks, you roll your eyes and lean forwards. You press your lips to his and you share a passionate kiss, one that'll leave you longing for more later on when you lay awake thinking of him.

══════════════════

You arrive in Japan and instantly the whole new world amazes you, Japan was truly impressively innovative and futuristic. But you weren't here to enjoy the culture, you had a very simple mission to do, retrieve something from a train with Ladybug, what could possibly go wrong?

Ladybug answers the call from your operator for the mission, you're both given your code names. You got given Kitty- slightly humiliating you thought but you've had worse.

"Kitty?!" Ladybug complains, "I see you're playing favourites." He says to your operator.

"Oh I'd never," she responds. "Oh and also, you two are a newly wed adventurous couple who are on their honeymoon."

"Are they also complete losers?" You ask.

"indefinitely."

You both get to the train station which is bouncing with life, you walk alongside Ladybug who is talking with the operator about why exactly you two had been picked for the job, something about someone dropping out sick maybe? You weren't really listening.

"Shit." Ladybug says.

"Shit what?" You respond with a sigh, it was always something going wrong.

"I think I lost the key back there, some guy bumped into me."

"I'll get into it, what's the locker number."

"523." Replied the operator.

You get into the locker whilst Ladybug still talks about Carver, you do nothing but roll your eyes at how much he cares he wasn't a top priority for the mission. You gather the items in the locker, the pair of you put in your ear pieces and pack the little bag. You had no idea why half of the things were necessary but it really didn't matter, you were sure time would tell. There was a gun in there, which you wanted to take but your partner was on a no killing strike and wanted to become more peaceful, you thought that was ridiculous considering your jobs but his therapist had been filling his head with nonsense.

"Ladybug!" You grab his attention, ending his useless conversation. "The train.. it's about to leave."

"Oh. Let's go."

The two of you quickly shove your way onto the train, it was a very close call. Immediately you were impressed by your surrounding's, the train, even economy was borderline luxury.

"This place is nice," says Ladybug, nodding his head approvingly.

"Agreed." You respond, you both make your way down the train whilst your operator informs you both of the trains different compartments. Then she tells you what it is you're retrieving. A silver briefcase with a sticker on the handle.

"Briefcase owners are not simple to take from." Ladybug states.

"Can't say I've much experience stealing briefcases." You reply.

"The owners should be in economy class,"

"Owners? Plural. God I knew we should have taken the gun, fuck you and your therapist Ladybug." You tut.

"I was choosing spiritual enlightenment, besides there's two of us, two, hopefully, of them. We'll be fine."

You just sigh in response, the two of you continue walking where you're met with the ticket collector. You look to Ladybug who was the one in charge of the tickets, the prolonged pocket search told you everything you needed to know. You sigh once again pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Shit I think I dropped our tickets with the key,"

"Great! Fucking brilliant."

Another pocket search and Ladybug finds the receipt which the man reluctantly accepts.

"The takeaway from that is from now on I will hold onto important things, got it?"

"Fine by me." Ladybug concludes.

You both continue your walk through economy where you heard an all too familiar voice, the man who you just walked past sounded exactly like your husband. However you didn't see his face because Ladybug was blocking him, nevertheless there was no way it was him, he was on a business trip in London. Immediately that thought leaves your mind as you and Ladybug get to the luggage, you scan over the different bags.

"There's no fucking way were finding this," Ladybug scowls.

"Just did." You reply and grab the case careful of causing attention.

"Great work Kitty,"

"Hm, what's the catch?" You reply, things felt too easy.

"Just get off the train."

You both oblige and Ladybug attempts to conceal the case in his jacket, you would argue that it would only bring suspicion but your only focus was to exit. You both make your way through the different compartments again, your heart was thumping and you felt uneasy, but persevered until you stand at a door to exit.

"Ahh look, maybe my luck has increased," Ladybug says triumphally.

"God I hope so." You respond.

The train slows down and the door opens, on the other side is a very angry looking man with curly hair, a neck tattoo and a white suit. Who is looking at you with a look so intense it makes your skin crawl. Before you know it he is lunging at you and Ladybug with a knife in his hand, you gasp as he stabs Ladybug. The two of them fall back onto a glass door, shattering it and falling to the ground. But as he removes the knife it's revealed that he just got his phone, you sigh in relief and walk into the room they fell into as Ladybug stands up.

"You stabbed me?!" Cries Ladybug, it's a mere second until he lunges at him again. You watch as they fight, you look for a weapon.

You smash a champagne bottle over his head and at the same time Ladybug kicks him, making him stumble back. The comical fight between them continues, the man reveals his motive, something about you two being responsible for his wives death, which is ridiculous because it wasn't true. The man throws his knife at Ladybug who holds the briefcase up for protection, however the knife bounces back and hits the man right in the heart, killing him almost instantly.

"Well, so much for no killing." You say, as you take the knife from his chest and wipe it clean on his jacket. You put it in your pocket for later.

You help Ladybug clean up as you both attempt to figure out who he is with no luck you give up and you set him up on the seat eating a packet of nuts. Hopefully to distract from the fact he was dead, better than nothing you thought.

You and Ladybug split up, your job is to find a table and sit there for when he finds the owners of the briefcase. All the operator knew was that they were twins. Soon Ladybug comes to sit with you, telling you about how the twins aren't actually twins and how he just fought one in the quiet car.

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, we just have to get the case and leave."

"I can't just walk off they know what I look like."

"Well then, I'll get the case you try get off and I'll get past with the case, look at me no one will suspect me. You know this is a very sexist industry, but as of now it has its advantages."

You leave the other way of the train to make it back to retrieve the case whilst Lady bug works on finding a way to exit the train. You go to the place where you stashed the case, you however quickly learn it is no longer there.

"Fuck! For fuck sake. Stupid fucks must've got to it." You rant on as you practically tear apart the room looking for the case. And much to your dismay it is absolutely nowhere to be seen. You pace back and fourth trying to rack your brain on what to do- it was your only upper hand that the twins didn't know of your existence so you couldn't blow that by trying to retrieve the case of off them, you also didn't know what they looked like. Just as you're pacing you get a text message, it was from Ladybug.

'need ur help. i'm cornered.'

You sigh in dismay, but you knew you had to go and help Ladybug with this. So you work your way down the train, checking everywhere for your partner. You hear struggle in the distance so you knew you were getting closer, you brace yourself to walk in.

"Gotcha now, there's no way you're escaping you slithery bastard. Give me the case and you walk away untouched."

"For the last time we don't have the case."

"Yes you fucking do cause I ain't got it."

"Stop. My wife is coming, I don't want her to see this."

"Your wife? What sad sack is married to you."

"She's actually really hot I'll have you know." You walk in as Ladybug says that, you mentally gag.

You freeze on the spot as you see the back of the man fighting Ladybug. For some reason his hair was identical to your husband's hair, the height and build was also the same. But no... you were definitely wrong and simply overthinking. That is until he turned around and you swore you heart stopped momentarily.

"What the fuck?!!" Tangerine says.

You just stare at him as he stares at you, you had absolutely no idea what the fuck to do. How on earth has this happened? Ladybug looks between the two of you, the confusion plastered over his face.

"That's my wife. Not yours." Tangerine says, the expression on his face is unreadable, he didn't look angry.. but he wasn't happy to see you that's for sure.

Ladybug just starts laughing, clearly he doesn't believe it. But he soon stops once neither of you laugh with him. "Wait.. is this true?"

"Yes." You reply.

"You're married to this geezer?!" Tangerine says, he looked like he was going to kill someone, his fists were clenched and his breathing was quick. You couldn't help but let fear wash over you.

"No obviously not- we're on a mission." You sigh trying to find the words to explain yourself.

"I'm so fucking confused right now." Ladybug says, you glare at him and he quickly shuts up.

You lean against the counter and run your hands through your hair, Tangerine just stares at you and you get a proper look at him. He was roughed up, splattered with blood and messy hair. In any other context you'd be drooling over him.

"You're working with him to get the case?" Tangerine questions, crossing his arms.

"...yes," you awkwardly pick your nails, this whole situation was throwing you off, it felt weird between you and Tan now considering basically your whole marriage was a lie. Looking at him you wondered what else you didn't know.

"You lied to me." Tangerine walks closer to you.

"You lied to me." You narrow your eyes at him, standing up straight you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Well this is fucking weird," Ladybug says, you and Tan in sync tell him to shut up, and he does.

"We can talk about this later, I need that case." You say.

"No. You're not leaving my side, there's someone else running around here, I can't have anything happening to you."

A sense of relief washes over you as you learn he doesn't completely hate you anymore. Maybe your marriage wouldn't go to crap, but there was absolutely no way you'd be staying by his side like some helpless victim.

"No. I need the case, I can protect myself. And I will, I don't need you to hold my hand."

"(Y/N).." Tan starts.

"No." He just nods in response and passes you his gun, you take it and put it into your pocket, the air is filled with deadly silence. That is until Lemon walks in.

"There you are... oh (Y/N)." Lemon says, he stops dead in his tracks and does a take back. "(Y/N)?!" His face drops and he sends an alarming look to Tangerine who just shakes his head in response.

"What the fuck?!" You look between the two men, you truly couldn't be more taken aback.

Lemon nervously laughs. "Are you enjoying Japan? We had a change of plans, you know work is so unpredictable these days." He looks to Tangerine for help, he just runs his hand over his face whilst sighing.

"She knows everything and she's working with this dickhead." He points to Ladybug who just raises his hand.

"Right... well um great," Lemon falters you found it funny how confused he was, he never was great in awkward situations.

"Okay this was interesting but we've got places to be, come on Kitty."

You take one final glance at your husband who looks extremely stumped and Lemon who just looks puzzled, you weren't sure how the rest of this mission would go but you just knew you couldn't wait for it to be over.

You leave with Ladybug to go find the case again and leave the train, you knew Tangerine would be fine so you felt confident in your decision to leave him. Besides you had a mission to carry out and that you were going to do.

"How come I didn't know you were married?"

You sigh. "Because it is private information, I didn't want to put him in danger."

"He seems lovely.." Ladybug says, the sarcasm dripping off his words.

"He is lovely, you don't know him."

"Neither do you- he's an assassin and you had no idea."

"Shut up. We just need to get the case and get off this stupid fucking train."

You both make it to the first class longue and there the case is, back in its original spot. "That was not there when I looked." You furrowed your brows.

"You mustn't've looked properly."

"I fucking did, ripped the whole place apart."

Before you knew it you were in yet another fight, the Hornet lunged at you making you fall onto the table, you hit her over the head with the case allowing you to get up. It was a messy fight, arms and legs flying around. But here you are with a venomous needle inching towards you throat, you flip her onto her back and pry the needle out of her hand. You inject it into her neck and watch her face drop.

"Being killed by your own methods, that's dark." You watch as blood pours out of her eyes and her throat starts to close over, her struggled gasping and choking fills the area. You get up and watch as she dies, withering in pain.

"Fuck that was close." Ladybug sighs.

"Come on, we need to go."

The two of you make your way back through the train and down to economy. That's where you see Tangerine standing pointing a gun at a girl in pink with a bob. His expression is devasting yet full of a rage you've never seen in your life, it makes your stomach drop. Something has happened. You quicken your pace, Tangerine sees you and lowers the gun.

"What happened?" You ask, he looked borderline psychotic.

"Lemon, she." He points the gun at her, "killed Lemon."

You face drops and you look back to Ladybug.

"He's lying! Please help me, please." The girl pleads. You turn to her and punch her square in the face, knocking her back into the chairs. You punch her again in the throat, the move makes her blackout and you turn back to your husband.

"Fuck this job we need to get off this train."

Ladybug grabs the case and you three walk back the opposite way, ready to exist. Your mind is fuzzy and your head hurts, there's no way Lemon is dead, that reality devasts you. Lemon was like a brother to you, it broke your heart knowing things would never be the same. As you walk out of the train Ladybug doesn't follow you and Tangerine.

"Ladybug?" You look back to see him struggling against the girl in pink. "For fuck sake!"

"Just leave him, come on."

"No. I can't leave him. We need to help him." You walk back onto the train, Tangerine following you.

With much struggle you get the girl in pink on the ground, using zip ties you found in her bag you tie her hands together and force her into the seat. The four of you sit waiting for the next stop. No one uttering a word. A man comes to sit at the table next to you four, he immediately recognises the girl, she tells him his son is dead, his grandson next, yet he was one step ahead of her, so she sits useless and defeated, a look of triumph overcomes you, you wanted nothing more than to slit her throat but you knew she would have later value, so you leave her sitting there wallowing in her stupidity.

The man tells you all his story, you pick up on his wisdom, feeling nothing but trust towards him. So when he tells you all to follow him- bar the girl, you do. He takes you to the bathroom where his son, and Lemon lay. His son turns out is not dead and reaches for his father. Your eyes fixate on Lemon, unlike Tangerine who is leaning against the wall beside the bathroom. Your heart thumps as Lemon somehow yawns? His eyes open and he looks around, extremely confused.

"Am I in hell?" He questions.

"Oh my god!" You gasp, you turn to Tangerine who instantly stands behind you looking at Lemon.

He rips open his shirt, showing his bullet proof vest, where bullets sat, things were piecing together but you were extremely confused as to what exactly happened.

"Oh.. you drank the water." Concludes Ladybug.

"Water? What water?" Tangerine asks, looking to your partner.

"The water spiked with sleeping powder."

All of you go to sit, awaiting the next stop.

"I can't believe you're an assassin." Lemon says. As he sits opposite you.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," You shrug.

"We need to get off this bastarding train, no more being held back." Tangerine says, you could tell he wasn't half with it. None of you were but he was right.

"We need a plan," Ladybug says. You all agree, and the elder comes up with roles for each of you to properly execute the plan.

You go with Lemon to try and control the trains route, Tangerine goes with Ladybug to hand in the case and cause a distraction whilst the elder goes to take on the white death, something dramatic he said about getting his revenge.

"Fuck it's all in Japanese. There was no Thomas episodes in Japanese." Lemon scowls.

"It's fine, we'll figure it out." You respond trying to be optimistic.

"Okay, we just have to slow this down. Fucking stupid thing! Fucking slow down." Lemon curses.

"So far so good." Ladybug says as he approaches you both, "you can stop the train."

"We don't know how to fucking work this shit!" You groan trying to suppress your frustration.

Lemon and Ladybug go back and fourth, you head hurts from listening to them. Suddenly two men come through the door shooting their guns, you all duck down to shield yourselves from the bullets. You and Lemon lunge at the men, taking them down whilst leaving Ladybug to stop the train. One of the men had you up against the wall, hand over you throat choking you, you felt the life slowly draining your body and with every passing second you become more and more weak. You watch Lemon trying to take down two other men, he doesn't know you're being straggled. Just as you are about to accept your fate, Tangerine comes in, knocking the man to the ground and shooting him in the head. You gasp for air your fingers gently caressing your tender throat, Tangerine is instantly at you.

"Are you okay love?"

You nod and he strokes your cheek, a great sense of comfort overrides you, then he and goes to help Lemon take down the other two men. Whilst they do that Ladybug finally figures out how to stop the train. Or so you thought, the manual book flies out the window and the train collides with the one in front, you all grip onto something. Another two men make their way up to the driving cart, which you all in a group effort defeat. Ladybug starts pulling out all sorts of wires which make the slow down and ride right into a wall, sending you all flying forward through the train as it destructs its way through a village. You land laying on a patch of dirt, Tangerine beside you. You heard a gunshot and jump up, you see The White Dead dead with his brains blown.

You two make your way over to where Ladybug, the elder and his son are, not even two minutes later the girl in pink comes with a machine gun, talking about her fate and luck, which doesn't last long before she's hit with a moving vehicle.

"What the fuck..?" You sigh, you look to Tangerine who looks just as puzzled as you. Ladybug goes off with Maria your handler who came to get you both, you decided to stay with Tangerine and the two of you go to find Lemon.

"Can't believe I didn't realise you were an assassin. Seems so obvious now." Tangerine says, taking your hand.

"Yeah well I didn't notice either, besides. I think I'm done with it, today was too messy."

Tangerine nods in agreement, you both find Lemon who turns out was driving the truck that hit the girl. The three of you decide to go home, of course Lemon didn't rest until he found out the ins and outs of your work. You were relieved to know everything Tangerine had ever told you- besides obviously his job was true. Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all.

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melit0n · 4 months

Text

Half-Starved

- Oneshot

- Obsessive! Ghost/Reader

- Word Count: 3.2K

- Warnings: Descriptions of gore, canabalism as a metaphor for love, mentions of past domestic abuse, stalking

- Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52474849

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley was born hungry.

Born with a relentless nagging feeling curled up right between his oesophagus and the squirming muscle of his stomach. From the very moment Simon opened his eyes, he was hungry for something he would never have. Left to starve in the gloom of the locked cupboard he was shoved into for not shutting up. He spent fifteen-odd years greedy for any drop of affection he could get. Anything he could grasp and hold onto, no matter how many bruises it would leave him with. No matter how long he would have to spend chained up like a bad dog in the corner of his room licking his wounds telling himself that it was worth it. That the blood was worth it. The pain was worth it.

Anything to be acknowledged.

Now, once again finding comfort in the gloom of his home, he is still hungry. Even more so. However, he didn’t like to be touched, because of him, but he still craved it. Maybe too much. He wanted, wants, to be held tight enough so he doesn’t break. Wants to be vulnerable. But he’s still afraid he’ll end up being a scared kid looking into the slit eyes of a snake again.

He blames his younger self for the predicament he’s found himself in, wants to sit down with him and shake him by the shoulders and ask why. Why he put himself through that for that long. But even so, he can’t blame the kid. He knows how hungry he is now; feels the scraping like dull claws against the soft spot between his liver and his spleen. He can only imagine what it was like for him as a kid. He’s blocked most of those memories out now, though.

He sits through the tugging, the pulling, through each dull meeting. Each dark night spent alone in his bunk. Each evening he spends licking wounds that just won't close.

Unfortunately, this issue, this dilemma, is a hard one to fix. A hard want to satiate. Being a 6’4 SAS agent with a heavy Manchester accent and an apparently unapproachable demeanour, most people tending to avoid him in the streets, makes it a bit hard to gain attention, let alone affection.

But then there’s you.

The first word that would come to his mind is kind.

Out of the blue, draped in moonlight and glimmering stars, you begin to appear everywhere. He doesn’t know if you’ve moved here recently, or if his brain has randomly decided to notice your presence, but you’re here. And there. And everywhere, really.

He sees you in the local corner shop, holding tightly onto the baggy sleeve of whoever you’ve brought along for your midnight excursion, brushing your hand, intently, against that of your work friends on the crowded train you both take every day into the city. You use physical affection as not only a way to show affection itself, platonic or romantic, he isn’t particularly good at guessing unless it’s incredibly obvious, but as a form of comfort and encouragement as well.

In less than a month into his leave, you’ve managed to become a staple in his civilian life. He sees you in the morning, always at the train station with breakfast and lunch in hand looking quizically around to see if you’ve missed your train like a doubtful deer. He knows you know you haven’t. You’re like him; you’ve got an obsession with time. While his is instilled by the harsh words of the military, yours is brought about by a tight work schedule. And maybe something else. He wonders what the something else is as you both board the already stuffed train, both standing in the same carriage full of warm, tired bodies.

He sees you in the afternoon as well, sitting outside on a park bench with a friend eating lunch. While you talk, you have a habit of taking tiny crumbs off of your sandwich, flicking them off to the ratty pigeons that flock around your feet like moths to a flame. You always have the same lunch; the same sandwich bread from the same corner shop with the same filing. You have a thing with regularity, routine, as well, it seems. Just like him.

Of course, he sees you in the evenings too. You both take the same train home, and almost always end up so close yet so far from each other on the carriage. Your work friend gets off at the stop two before yours and Simon’s; always leaving you with a pat on the shoulder and a closed eye smile, which you almost always return. You have a habit of doing a little jump when you get off the train which Simon finds quite cute. It’s almost as if you’re actually afraid of the gap.

Of the fall.

Either way, you part ways without knowing you’re parting from him, leaving him incomplete in an odd way, and head back to your home. Ghost has an impulse to follow you, in between curiosity at where you live and to make sure you’re safe, but Simon urges himself to head home. To sleep. You linger in his thoughts each time he walks back.

At first, he’s oddly amazed, a bit in awe, if he were honest, that you can give so much affection so easily, touch so easily, and receive it tenfold from the people around you.

Then, there’s annoyance, titering on the fine, chipped-away line of anger. Like a mantra, he asks why it’s fair someone can give, give and keep on giving, let alone receive something back, and he can’t? How can you hold someone so closely and not be afraid of a knife in your back?

Maybe that’s Ghost talking, he thinks.

Eventually, he falls off the fine line of annoyance and anger into the muddied trench that is jealousy. Jealous not only of you, how you can give and receive so easily, but of the people in your life who get to experience the affection that you give to any warm body that passes by you. Said people who don’t understand how precious and rare that experience is to others. To him. He wants to taste it. Badly.

Then, it morphs. Twists and turns like a dying thing, all red with chunks of fur sticking at odd angles, into attraction. Turning from a want to be held, a quiet plea to the void for you to keep him together for just a little bit longer, to a need. A need to kiss until both your lips are bloody and raw, bitten and chewed like a pomegranate, seeping your liquid life for him to drink as an elixir. He wants, needs, hungers to feel the comforting weight of your blood in the bottom of his stomach.

He’s seen the way you kiss, and God above he needs it. Needs you. He doesn’t care if it’s the fleeting, platonic kisses you gift to your friends on the cheek (he wants you to take a chunk out of his cheek. Wants you to chew on the fat like the gum you always have in your mouth), or if it’s the rough ones you give to the men you bring home. The ones that have them chasing your lips for more, which you always allow because you never stop giving.

Simon wants it. Ghost needs it.

Consequently, the dull scratching of the claws in between his liver and his spleen grows sharper. After years of the scratching, the pulling, the tugging, he’d thought his hunger pang’s talons had grown weary, but he feels them. He feels the sharp ache like a pistol’s bullet and it bloody hurts. Has him hunched over on his bed trying to claw out his stomach because, for the first time in years, it's hurting him.

And, for the first time in years, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley decides to listen.

As more time passes, more time spent getting soaked outside your house in the rain waiting for you to come home because you’re oddly late for all the time he’s known you, it changes again. Writhes around in his stomach and the fat in his veins, to something much worse. Much more harmful, at least, to you. In all the pain of his hunger, he contemplates taking chunks out of you. Maybe that will satiate the creature that squirms in his bloody viscera, laying claim to all of his innards in an attempt to get him to feed for once in his life.

To allow him to know what it feels like to be full, instead of half-starved.

Zoning out during meetings easily turns to daydreaming of taking one of his hunting knives to your flesh. Cut strips of skin, like your his sacrificial lamb to slaughter and devour, and finally put those butchering skills he gained to work somewhere other than on the field. He promises he’ll be delicate. Promises he’ll be kind. He wouldn’t dare show you the bloodthirsty rage his opponents see on the field.

Oh, and he can just imagine how you’d cry when he’d do so. He hates hearing people cry. After all, he’s haunted by the echoing sobs of someone lost to him in some distant, sun-stunned, sand-smothered land. But you? He doesn’t mind one bit. It’s another piece of you for him to consume, another piece of you that you can offer to him, gift to him, to bring you two together.

He knows how much it takes to be vulnerable, so he wouldn’t even be able to describe what he’d do to taste your tears. To savour your salty sadness upon his tongue and be able to offer comfort. To lick your face dry and hold you in his arms; warm body against warm body just like he’s daydreamed about.

The more time that passes, the further he falls.

On slightly rarer occasions, ones where he’s alone in the quiet of his room for longer than a human should be, he thinks about feeding your own lovingly cooked gore to you. Get’s him more riled up than he’d like to admit.

He can see it as clear as a freshly painted watercolour; a candle-lit dinner. Warm lighting. He’s tried his hardest to cover up the smell of his cigarettes for you, a scent that clings to his walls like mould, with roses. The smell of whatever he’s cooked for you permeating the air.

Soup sounds good, doesn’t it, love?

It’s a macabre yet intimate fairytale that finds its way into his thoughts when all else is quiet. Leaves him tossing and turning in his bed because the scraping just won't stop. He swears he's bleeding out from the inside, and he’ll break his own kneecaps from how long he’s been on the floor at your feet begging you to make it stop. To stop the scratching, the itching, the nagging feeling. For you to clean and stitch up his wounds, new and old.

He’s utterly enamoured with the thought. The idea of being that close to another human being. To be able to physically intertwine each other’s atoms through mutual consumption. To be sewn into the quantum patterns of your being. For you to feed him a proper meal like his parents never could.

He remembers being taught in his History class, the one with the old hag of a teacher who, with her droning words alone, convinced him not to take it for GCSEs, that in ancient times people used to eat each other as well. They did this so that in life, and eventually in death, the two of them would share an utterly unique bond, as well as each other's attributes.

He only really remembers that because his mates laughed at the idea of aristocratic Victorians eating mummies like it was a five-star meal for weeks after that lesson.

Even so, Ghost decides he could die happy on the field knowing that a part of you rested within him. That even when he was dead and gone, probably much earlier than he should be, you two would still be connected. He would have a piece of you, and you him.

And you, him. Mutual consumption. He doesn’t mind extra scars, extra wounds, because he knows you’ll lick them clean for him. Knows you wash them, stitch them up and check on them so they heal properly.

In the end, that is the intimacy he dreams of. The affection he wants from you.

His body is yours, as yours is his. Let him be yours. Let him feed. Let him fulfil you.

The idea leaves him with a small smirk on his face that Soap nudges him in the ribs for with a prodding grin of his own.

So, he makes a decision. For once, Simon and Ghost agree on something and work together as one instead of turning the other off for the greater good.

The decision? To feed. To finally know what it is like to be full instead of half-starved.

The scraping, the nagging, only grows stronger.

He makes it a point to bump into you as much as he can before his next mission.

Anywhere is a dinner table to him. On the crowded train, brushing his calloused hand against yours to ease the hunger for even a second. In the artificial lighting of the run-down corner shop, grabbing that bag of snacks that are just out of reach for you. Anything. Anything will do. But it only temporarily satiates the pang, doesn’t satisfy it. He just gets hungrier and hungrier and hungrier.

He knows you’ve begun to notice him. You’re getting hungry too. He just hopes it’s in the same way he hungers for you. He hopes you’re hungry for him, and him alone.

At first, you attempt to offer him platonic comfort, which, God above, tastes so sweet. You offer soft touches on his shoulder. You gift your fingers intertwining with his as you cross the street to his home because he’s gone off on another bender trying to stop turning over in his bed and seeing the inside of a coffin that he has to dig his way out of again.

‘N you’re just some poor night owl who’s trying to be kind.

It becomes a routine. Both for you and him. You know he’ll come out of the pub at quarter to one and you know he’s expecting you. You’ll walk the same walk to his home, fumbling with his keys as he looks at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen on a man, hands intertwined. You’ll still carry him home and close the door softly with your foot as you lay him on his couch and get him a glass of water and whatever painkiller he has lying around. You’ll still stay as he chats, drunkenly, to you. You’ll take care of him and he’ll be whole again, for just a moment.

At least until the morning comes, anyways.

He hungers for your touch the same way water hungers for the cavities of people’s lungs. Hungers for your skin like he hungers for the nicotine in his cigarettes. Hungers and begs and pleads until you both fall like Icarus; wax melting and dripping off your backs as you try and crawl your way back to the sun, back to the light, while he drags you down into the depths of the deep blue.

It's almost poetic.

In the midst of your drowning, the front door opening startles you out of your stupor. You do that a lot, Simon notes. You’ll black out and stare at a wall for hours, whether it be to awkward silence or a piece of music. He doesn’t question it, verbally, at least. From how easily you dissociate, he’d say it's something you picked up a long time ago. He’ll find out when, eventually.

Carefully, you get up from the couch, approaching him as he walks over to the kitchen counter. The blue plastic bag he has rustles loudly in the spotless kitchen.

“What’s that?” You ask, gently, placing a hand on his shoulder to get a better look.

Please give me more.

He lets out a knowing grunt and pulls out two round, red fruits. At first, you mistake them for apples, but the star-shaped top throws you off.

“Pomegranates?”

He nods, looking into your eyes for some sort of approval.

Gingerly, you take one of the pomegranates out of his hand, his fingers twitching as the pads of your digits brush against his. Your eyes dart back and forth between him and the fruit as you do so, careful to earn his compliance as you inspect the fruit.

I’ll take anything you give. Just please give me more.

They’re a deep red, almost crimson, and the shine reflects your face on its vermilion skin.

“Chopping board,” He pauses, “please?”

Nodding absent-mindedly, you place the fruit back into his cupped hands.

You open the drawer behind the both of you and pull out an old chopping board, red soaked and stained into the wood that Ghost just can’t seem to get out. You place it on the counter next to the pomegranates, along with a clean bowl he didn’t even hear you grab, and then find your way to the knife block. Hearing the subtle shink of a blade against wood, Ghost turns and scrutinizes you as you try to remember which knife is the fruit knife. Choosing the shortest one, you hold it by the handle, facing downwards just like Simon taught you, and place it on top of the chopping board with stitched-up hands and missing fingers from all the times he’s begged for more. From all the times you’ve said you have nothing more to give, but he knows you always have more.

I’ll take even the spare and broken bits. Just look at me. Touch me. Let me be full.

You watch, intently, as he delicately cuts the top of the pomegranate off, slicing through the thick skin. Gently, he peels the layers of the pomegranate back, kissing each one with the tips of his fingers, letting it stain them something beautifully violent. He reveals the soft viscera inside, glancing back over to you again and again. Looking for something in your eyes you’re not sure you can give. He cuts it into quarters, continuously surprising you how utterly gentle he is with it, but not down to the skin. Leaving it in a fileted star-like shape, he turns it upside down on the bowl, and, using his hand, slowly shakes the seeds off of the fruit into the bowl.

Once he’s finished, sure he’s got all of the seeds off, he sets the empty corpse aside and just…stares at the bowl of red.

The silence is deafening. You want to fill it.

Simon takes a bloody scoop of the red viscera with his right hand, letting the pinkish juice dribble down his hand, his forearm, and drip onto the immaculately clean counter.

The kitchen smells like bleach. It makes the back of your throat itch.

He offers his hand out towards you, like an olive branch, like some lurid type of eucharist, and, like the obedient dog you are, you feast.

“I love you.” He mumbles, fondly watching the muscle of your tongue dart out to catch the pinkish juice dribbling from your frothing maw.

Be full. Let me fill you, and in turn, you fill me. Feed on me until there is nothing left. Let us decompose, intertwined. Please. Just say you love me, too.

You’re eating, and you begin to repeat it, but Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley taught you well not to speak with your mouth full.

-------------------

Note- If anybody believes this needs the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag, please let me know. I've seen much more horrific works without the tag, but I'm mildly worried this is inching into the category.

I've spend the past week hearing Abbey by Mitski at every turn, so I wrote this out in an hour or two. I think if I heard that song or saw something about bloody pomegranates one more time I think I would've started chewing the flesh off of my own bones. Canabalism as a metaphor for love is a incredibly profound, and, in some ways, poetic literature device for the sheer destruction a toxic relationship can cause, so, I wanted to try my hand at it! And also to stop myself from clawing my face off from hearing anything about this canabalism metaphor from literally everywhere on the internet.

I apologise for this being description and inner monologue heavy. I wanted to focus on the horror aspects in this rather than the romance aspects, so I'm sorry if you didn't get what you came here for.

Do tell if this feels too out of character for Ghost. It was originally written for König, but I changed it last minute. Thank you for sitting down and reading my work! It means a lot <3

I'll leave it up to you if the metaphor is really a metaphor in the end.

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wandasfifthwife · 3 months

Text

Din Djarin | misunderstandings

Din Djarin x fem!reader

tw: pinning after each other, sorta confessions, misunderstandings, reader used to be mandalorian, reader gets a bit insecure, din is confused, mentions a past-gunshot wound, hurt/comfort, happy ending

a/n: idk if this fandom alive anymore but I still love this man sooo, enjoyment is wished upon whomever this lands upon. This is shit writing and I’m so sorry. I’ll re-read and edit later (if you read and enjoy this now… thank you for loving me at my lowest fr)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You’ve been on his ship now for almost a year, the months feeling like they were slowing down the further time went by. He originally treated you like a co, only asking what was needed, very obviously separating you from his personal life.

The ship had crashed some time ago, the both of you stranded on a desert planet for almost two months. Something had shifted, changed, and it got worse. The air felt thinner when he was close and your heart would pound.

You felt he cared to listen when you began to share small details about you like where you grew up, what scares you, how you got a scar on your forearm. You felt he began to change too.

“cyar’ika,” his tone is straightforward, “go to bed, you’re just straining your muscles now.”

It scared you when he began to use that instead of your name. You were too frightened to ask what it meant. The only tone he speaks in is monotone and he wears a helmet, it’s hard to read him. Everytime you think you begin to understand, you feel him slipping further away.

You hear a banging sound, one that happened because you drop the boxes from your grip.

“Was only trying to help,” you quip, stepping beside him to enter into the ship.

He shuts the door behind you, asking about the kid. You arrange the boxes so they’re out of the way, “he fell asleep minute after you left.”

He hums, the sound muffled slightly from his helmet. You stand near him to try and get the last package, though with the distance and your strength the box ends up falling to the ground and on your foot. You almost go still from the pain, chest growing tight as you tried to work through the pain. The mandalorian takes the box off of your foot as soon as it fell, a hiss sounding from him.

His body is tense when you try to walk, obvious pain showing on your face. He’s oblivious to how it cringes even more at the name. Sitting yourself down, you cradle your foot, tears coming to your eyes and you blink them away. The sight of tears startles him.

“Your injury, is it hurting that—?”

“No,” you cut him off, “I’ll be fine, I think it just bruised it.”

He offers you a hand, “ner sarad. Get off the floor.”

You swat it away and attempt to get up on your own. How stupid could you be? He’s only ever called you these names in an accusing manner. You had hope, but now that you’re looking back, you’ve lost it.

Last week he used it when you had gotten shot in the shoulder after chasing him for hours. About a month ago you remember him using his language in an angry manner when you argued.

A quiet sob escaped you, “why are you always getting angry at me?” You go limp when his hands come under you, lifting you so he can place you down on his bed. You’re stuck between wanting to push him away and pulling him closer to you. He works on removing your shoe and lifting your pant leg with a sigh.

“The words I’ve been using are terms of endearment,” he gently rubs his thumb over the already forming bruise, “cyar’ika means beloved.”

“I thought you were cursing my name out, using them as expressions of anger.”

“I started using them since you mentioned you were mandalorian once.”

He pats your thigh, getting off the ground to grab the medical supplies. You wince as he wraps your foot tightly, “I was, but we’ve never used those terms. We only called one another by our given name. I didn’t know those words existed.”

“And I’m a fool for assuming your clan was the same as mine.”

“Not a fool,” you smile at him, “you were trying to flirt and I interpreted it as sarcasm. I’m the fool.”

He stands, a hand coming to cup your cheek, “I can teach you, ner kar’ta.”

Your hand covers his, a shiver going through you at the warm feeling of his glove, “what is ner kar’ta?”

“My heart.”

#mando x reader #mando #the mandaloria/reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #hurt/comfort #reader is female #mando x fem!reader #din djarin x fem!reader

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cyxnidx · 6 months

Text

CRYBABY !

character: choso kamo ft. crybaby!reader

genre: smut

warnings: dacryphilia, overstim if you squint, reader is a crybaby bc choso is just like that 🤷 baby and sweetheart as petnames, reader is called a crybaby

prompt: "i never knew u were so sensitive?"

you and choso have been seeing one another for a while now - a month, to be exact.

in that month, choso would think he knew you well - well enough, to the point that he'd think he knew most of your personality. your moodiness, what certain behaviors mean and what he should or shouldn't take seriously with you. he made it his best interest at heart and his personal mission to understand you fully, and he did just that.

though, sexually, was a different story.

he knew all your icks, sensory issues, if any, and things you hated. he knows all your favorite shows and movies by heart, he indulges in your interests and asks questions to know your point of view deeper, he makes an effort to understand the way you think and how he should later maneuver certain conversations with you, and listens to whatever random topic the two of you land on every night when the two of you finally aren't busy.

however, tonight was a night he's been craving for the longest. a night where he didn't have to have a simple quickie with you to get himself situated, a night where he wasn't busy, going out to fight, or deal with any other distractions. it's a night where he could take care of you properly.

a night where in his mind, he could finally understand you sexually.

not like there haven't been conversations on it before - despite the evident shyness and seemingly taboo vibe of the whole thing, he was genuinely curious.

that curiosity very well developed into a need very quickly. quicker than choso thought it would've.

"relax f'me, baby." he states softly, tongue lapping at your cunt while his fingers fucked your hole at a horribly slow pace. tears dripped down your cheeks as you cried out, hands weakly pushing at choso's head in a futile attempt to get him away.

you were open about both, your sexual experiences and what you were and weren't into. though, there was one feature you left out. whether or not it was purposeful, choso found it intriguing.

lining his cock with your hole, choso held your two wrists over your head before pushing into your plush cunt. he smiled, watching the expression on your face contort into pleasure as he took his time before bottoming out. "you good, baby?" he asks, removing his hand from your wrist.

he'd watch your hands go limp before finding stabilization on his forearms. your cunt clenched around his size, burning sensation due to the stretch sending your senses into a fury. you swallow harshly, eyes blinking as you begin to think the tears are over and done with.

nodding, you sigh, closing your eyes when his thumb rubs away your tears, a soft smile appearing when his skin touches yours. "sucha' baby." he mumbles, kissing your forehead softly.

hands moving back to your waist, he pulls out slowly. you feel every vein as you clench around him, frowning when you feel empty once again.

though, that frown was later spilling moans and quiet curses when he enters you again - cock thrusting into you, first gently, but now at a rapid pace. and now, the tears were back. tears of pleasure, the stimulation of his cock being too overwhelming for you - and now you were beginning to wonder, is this what you were missing out on?

he giggles softly when you cum on his cock without warning, not being able to spill any coherent words and sentences from your mouth if it wasn't miserable moans and repeated curses from pleasure.

choso pulls your hips to meet with his, bringing his mouth to yours as his pace calms to a softer speed. "all these tears.." he whispers against your lips, moving to your neck. "such a baby."

you explain it's never happened before and he's almost surprised. "poor thing. never felt this good, hm?" he feigns a pout, moving his thumb to your nub, rubbing circles against it. "g'na have to show you how it's 'posed to feel, yeah?" he nods, almost innocently, eyes diligently watched as your body begins to writhe under him.

he begins to fuck you faster, keeping a hand on your waist to ensure you can't go anywhere while his other focuses on your clit. "c'mon, cum again, cum for me again." he kisses your cheeks, tears flowing from your eyes.

"s' t'much, too much!" you'd cry, orgasm hitting you like a truck as your heavy eyes go wide, pleasure running through your body. choso kisses you again, painting your walls with his cum as his fingers begin to draw little shapes on your waist in an attempt to calm you from your high.

"i never knew you were so sensitive?" he says, voice laced with curiosity. "jus' fa me, too. such a sweetheart."

i have a terrible hangover fml

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darkherolovercroissant · 1 year

Text

Burned

Library 📚

Simon Ghost Riley x Fem reader

Warnings: there’s smut, so if your age is on the clock, you’re too young for his cock….so get out. Mature themes and language.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They say when you play with fire, you get your fingers burnt. And by now, Simon was no stranger to being burnt. The streets weren’t the only place it was going down, oh hell no! The sheets were where he was going to town on the punishing.

Soap was completely oblivious to what was happening upstairs as he was laying down on a beaten up couch. All he knew was that Ghost was going to check up on you, and he was doing a very hands on check up.

Your gear completely littered the floor as your hands yank his off while his mouth starts leaving marks down your neck and across your collar bones. Your hands finally managed to get that vest and jacket of his off and started working down his broad chest and down to his pants as he continued to feast on your neck.

His hands yanked your pants off quickly before picking you up and slamming your back against the wall, knocking the wind out of you.

“You ok love?“ he says in that deep and husky voice of his.

You nod before lifting his mask up a little higher for better access, but he wasn’t having it. He just removes the whole thing, successfully capturing your attention more.

“Like what you see?” He huffs

“I’d be lying if I said no.” You gasp lightly before running your fingertips along his jawline.

“You weren’t lying when you were talking to Soap earlier.”

“I never lie. You should know that by now.” He growls as his lips go back to your neck as his hands go to unbuckling his pants and dropping them just low enough.

“Ready darling?”

“Always ready for you.” You moan

“That’s my girl.”

Feeling his fingers rubbing between your legs, you gasp as they applied more pressure and then one slipping in, followed by two more.

“I swear, you don’t fuck me now…I’ll kill you.” You moan

“Alright, don’t get your panties in a twist.” He chuckles before a bigger force of pressure found its way down there.

Feeling him slide into you, your head tilts back in pleasure and your eyes screw shut. God this man was not lacking in size in any department. The cold bricks against your back making sure you stay in some state of consciousness as Ghost slips all the way in.

“Oh fucking hell. It’s been too long since I was in this darling.” Ghost grunts as you adjust to him.

“Please. Just fuck me, Simon.”

He pulls out slowly, you feeling every inch as he taunts you with the greatest feeling. He smirks as he watches your eyes close before ramming into you, making them open wide as you release a gasp.

His hand clamps over your mouth as he glared at you before turning to look at the door.

“Don’t make too much noise, unless you want more company.” His low voices echoed in your ears.

Pushing your head to his shoulder, he snickers as your arms wrap around his neck and shoulder before moving once again.

“Make all the marks you want, I love them.” He groans as you contract around him

His pace starts out slow and rough but my god did he make up for all the time you spent with horrifying thoughts about what you wanted him to do to you.

His hands grabbing your waist as he started pounding deep inside. You biting down on his shoulder as you tried to keep quiet. He just groans as your whimpers and moans echo in his ear.

He’s been dreaming of absolutely ruining you since he noticed your behaviour earlier. It’s not the first time he’s taken you, you also know it won’t be the last.

The way you tighten your legs around his waist as he continues to pound up into your abused pussy, has him groaning and trying to speed up and make it more rough with every hit.

Your bare chest moving along with the thrusts has his attention. He was a sucker for the women and how genetics made their body the biggest weakness to the strongest of men.

He praised your body every time he took it. With wandering hands and with lingering lips that had left quite the marks on your small frame.

Your eyes were screwed shut as you continued to experience the highest levels of welcomed pain and pleasure. Your core was going to hurt in the morning, but to have this mountain of a man just drilling for the jackpot of the best kind of high was worth it.

His hands sneaking around to grab what he had been ogling earlier and squeezing it before one travelled upwards to around your throat to squeeze it and smirk.

“You’re doing well, darling.” He groans

You bite your lip as he continues to pump deeper inside you. Your eyes rolling back into your head as you could feel your brain rattling around in your skull.

He stopped momentarily only to slide down to the ground with you being placed on top.

“Take it darling. Show me what you can do.” Ghost moans

Taking a moment to circle your hips around, You leaned down to give him a big kiss before slowly adjusting to this position. Starting to pick up the pace, Ghost was in heaven watching his girl ride him.

His hands coming back to your waist to pull you back down all the way when you cheated him out of taking him all. Having your completely bare frame taking him as he was only in his tactical pants and boots was easily the best mental image he could have.

Your hands came down on his chest followed by your head as your whimpers and moans got louder. At this point, Ghost didn’t care if Soap heard you, he wanted you to moan his name. Bonus points if he could make you scream it. And now that he knew you were close, he was determined to have anyone listening hear who was making you this loud.

Arching his legs up, he started pounding up into you, causing your head to lift up and the most beautiful sounds to come out of your mouth.

“Fuck, Simon. Please make me cum.” You beg

“Oh don’t worry, love. You will.” He grunts as he adds more power to his thrusts.

The feeling of knots twisting in your gut got stronger before they snapped. Launching you into pure heaven as the best orgasm took over and your body shut down.

“YES! SIMON! YES!” Your mind has shut down as your head comes down to his shoulder as he won his little challenge.

His high washed over him as his deep voice captivated your ears as he finished. You could feel it as he came inside you, it felt good and he knew it.

—————

After you both came back from the high, Simon headed downstairs to see a grossed out Soap who looked like he had just been physically sick.

“You good Johnny?” Simon asks

“You’re a sick man L.T” Soap dismissed before going outside to take a breather.

His fingertips still felt hot from what just occurred upstairs, but he didn’t mind. He loved playing with fire. He loved being burned by you.

#not so short short story #oneshot #simon ghost riley #smut #minors fuck off #fluff #some humor #fanfic #x fem!reader #reader is female #he can fold me like a lawn chair #i will not apologize #darkherolovercroissant #I’m here to make toxic fanboys uncomfortable #simon ghost riley x reader

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blueberrypancakesworld · 11 months

Note

I love your Lords of chaos stuff and would really like if you could write something about Euronymous dating a girl who has a completely different aesthetic as him (girly, pink, super sweet and innocent) it can have smut . And if it could talk about how the dark circle feels about their relationship and stuff. Thank you and would truly love it.

Okay so this was really, really fun to write because of the dynamic. I hope you like it and as always have fun reading :)

Princess and the Vampire

warning : big fluff, use of Y/n

masterlist-Lords of Chaos 2018

masterlist-Rory's characters

Second Part

Diclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two couldn't have looked more different when they entered the shopping centre. The young woman was dressed in bright colours, but most of all it was her pink top that revealed her silver belly button piercing with a little Hello Kitty pendant on it that drew attention. not to forget her blue jeans with the colourful flowers sewn on them.

A typical glittery girl of the nineties from the outside. If she hadn't intertwined her fingers with those of a dead man. Next to her, a young man with longer black hair, black leather trousers, jumping boots and a T-shirt with satanic symbols on it. Two completely different people who loved each other more than anything else.

She heard him mutter to his friend, who was now giving the tenth pensioner a death stare and scaring him off with ,,Hail Satan". But this only made his friend smile, which is exactly why she loved her friend. While he was him and they both accepted each other as they were. Pink and girlish and dark satanic.

Like Yin and Yang she thought and jumped beside him before they arrived in front of a jewellery shop only a few moments later. ,,You dragged me here for this...well then, if you want" he grumbled and she just giggled before pulling him behind her. She was grateful that he came along to her little shopping trip, as she knew he didn't think much of trends and the mainstream.

Which is why she gave him a kiss on the cheek which made him smile slightly. ,,So again, I hope you're prepared to be kicked out of my shop," she heard him say again and knew what he meant. Since you got together about a month ago he had been telling his friends/band/admirers that he had a girlfriend but it never came to a meeting.

You were just too different for that and Euronymous was sure that the circle would tear you apart. Even though you met by chance in an ice cream parlour and he got your strawberry ice cream and you got his dark chocolate ice cream, something clicked between you.

Turning to him and smiling confidently, she said, ,,I don't wear pink heels for nothing, you know," before turning back to the chains. ,,I just need one more thing and it's perfect" she thought and looked from star symbols, to little flowers and musical notes. ,,How about this?" she heard his voice and he held out a necklace with a skull on it.

Smiling but rolling her eyes slightly, she pushed the necklace back into his hand and said, ,,That would look good on you, my sweet vampire, why don't you go and get it?".

Looking a little further through the shelves she let out a squeal of delight and Euronymous covered his ears before coming over to her and smiling. ,,OMG she's cute, look at those little ears!" she exclaimed, practically pushing the necklace with the Hello Kitty pendant into his face, which he could more than see.

Taking his hands up with conviction, he looked at the necklace and said quietly, ,,Yeah, it's kind of cute," which she confirmed with a knowing nod before they went to the checkout and bought it. ,,Wait, I'll help you" the black haired man said and while she held her hair up slightly he fastened the clasp so that the necklace was in place.

She went to one of the shop windows and looked at herself in the rather bad reflection. ,,That looks super cute" she said delightedly and smiled a big smile at Euronymous who returned it before the two of them took each other by the hand again to make their way to the record shop.

Spraying her perfume, which smelled of cherries, around her one last time and putting it in her little pink bag, she saw Euronymous give her a murmuring smile before he opened the door for her and the two of them went inside.

There was no one in the shop itself and she saw her friend's brief relief as he ran his gaze over the plates before stopping at the path to the cellar. ,,Ready?" he asked, pulling aside the curtain where she could already hear the loud music coming from downstairs. Fixing her hair one last time, she nodded to him before following him downstairs.

She had only been in the basement a few times when the coven didn't have a meeting. But it definitely lacked colour in her opinion. Overcoming the remaining steps, she stood next to Euronymous with a broad smile. ,,Nice man, a hooker, didn't know this was going to be an orgy" was the first comment from someone wearing a bandana and grinning broadly.

The others laughed and she saw that it was not the first and not the second beer they all seemed to have had. ,,You must have paid the little one a lot," she heard the murmur of someone with long dark brown hair who was playing with a lighter and had a challenging look on his face.

That's the guy from the interview in the newspaper...Varg or something she thought, but didn't let the remarks get to her, she was above these things. ,,Or is she our victim, I really want to do it again" said a guy with long hair and a knife in his hand that flashed in the light who was sitting next to a guy with a heel cross chain. Before she noticed a blond, quiet, thin-looking guy she recognised as Pelle/Dead.

Euronymous's best friend as she knew. Just normal nice people. ,,No guys...this is Y/n my friend!" Euronymous interrupted his friends and followers and put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her close. She waved to the group before giving Euronymous a kiss on the cheek and pulling out of his embrace before walking over to the various guys.

She was more than ready. ,,Hi I'm Y/n...nice bandana where did you get that?" she asked the first one, shaking his hand eagerly before pulling the bandana hanging around his neck towards her. ,,It comes in pink too, I hope," she murmured and let go of him again with a grateful look. ,,Of course you can get it in pink in all colours...Hellhammer we could go and get some together" he replied quickly to her cheerful manner and shook her hand before returning to his beer and giving Euronymous a thumbs up for her.

Before she went over to the one with the lighter and shook his hand as well. Intrigued, she ran her hand over one of the soft strands of the boy's hair and said, ,,Wow, they're really soft...you must tell me about your hair care routine".

This seemed to throw the stranger slightly off track, but almost in spite of himself he began to write his routine on an old sarviert. ,,Here, it's not expensive at all, I'm Varg, by the way, I also have nice hair," he said and suddenly seemed almost embarrassed and quietened down before he sat down on a chair again and was quiet.

Putting the serving dish in her little bag, she went over to the boy with the knife. ,,You have a cute smile...what kind of sacrifice is that?" she complimented him and made a happy noise as she saw his cheeks turn a bright pink and he just put the knife away and shook his head slightly. Before he calmly said, ,,I'm Faust...not a victim, just a joke" and quickly took a long hit of his beer.

Nodding, she shook the hand of the guy next to Faust with the necklace before proudly holding it out to him. ,,You definitely need one with Hello Kitty, the colour would suit you," she said, and only heard the more than overbearing guy mutter an ,,Occultus" before leaning against Faust and giving him a searching look. Before she almost killed poor Pelle, who looked as if he would throw himself into Faust's knife.

She grabbed his face and turned it slightly from left to right. Before she said to Euronymous, ,,My little vampire, you never told me how pretty he is, you're missing make-up", she let go of Pelle and bounced happily back to her friend, who was watching the whole thing with a big grin. Before he pulled her to him, gave her a heartfelt kiss and wrapped his arm around her waist.

No one dared to say a word. ,,I see you are very good with the boys" he said delightedly and she just smiled proudly. To be more precise, she had the boys so well under control and she was so excited about herself that the evening ended in a Disney marathon, that's for sure.

She wasn't the one who cried at the death of bambies mother, but a certain black coven did. And since then she has been the pink shining exception of the black circle or simply the pink princess of black metal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mayhem-things , @bvg-w1res , @beldamama

#lords of chaos 2018 #lords of chaos #lords of chaos euronymous #rory culkin #mayhem #lords of chaos pelle/dead #lords of chaos faust #lords of chaos hellhammer #lords of chaos varg #big fluff #fluff #cute girly #girly #reader is female #use of y/n

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aithorin · 6 months

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oh, baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you - Lady Dimitrescu x Reader - Part 1 (Eventual 18+)

Synopsis: As Lady Dimitrescu’s loyal personal maid, you have watched for years as others have come and gone from your Mistress’ bed, desperately wishing you could take their place. Yet despite your deep love for Lady Dimitrescu, she has never once looked at you that way. Years of repressed pain reach their breaking point when you accidentally walk in on one of your mistress’ trysts, for it is then that you finally accept that she will never truly see you. You confront her in hopes of stepping down as her personal maid but soon discover that Lady Dimitrescu won’t so easily let you go.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49435549/chapters/124759192

A/N: Part 1 of 3. Part 2 and Part 3 are here.

________

She is always particularly stunning at times like these, in the moments before bed when it is just the two of you. Bathed in the dim light of a dying fire, the warm tones of the flames dance across her pale skin, rendering her with an ethereal delicacy akin to the airy paint strokes of Degas himself. Alone in her room and away from prying eyes, she lowers the walls she keeps built so high, softening her features in a way very few get to see. Here, she is simply Alcina, not Lady Dimitrescu, feared matriarch of House Dimitrescu, and you’ve never found her more beautiful.

Slipping out the final pin binding her meticulous updo together, the last of Lady Dimitrescu’s soft curls cascade down to join the other locks resting freely just below her shoulders. Though no longer forced into place, the wisps of hair still frame her face well, seeming to intuitively adhere to the inherent elegance that surrounds her. It’s a sight you’ll never tire of seeing. Hands reaching out, you fluff her hair, fingertips lingering in an attempt to prolong your time together. They ghost along the nape of her neck, pushing the bounds of propriety, and you savor every stolen touch, no matter how brief they may be. It is, after all, the closest you’ll ever be to her, and well, beggars can’t be choosers.

Swallowing around the yearning that threatens to consume you, the thought that you’d give anything to remain frozen like this briefly crosses your mind. You don’t want the night to end. Here, in the safety of these walls, you’re able to pretend that she’s yours. You brush her hair, not as a servant carrying out the command of her master, but as a lover displaying her affection. You don’t want to let go, for when you do, the illusion will shatter and take any hope of true happiness with it.

The rules of decorum call for otherwise, however. And so, with great effort, you pull your hands back to your side and step down from your place behind her, head bowing slightly as you await further orders. Seated at her vanity, Lady Dimitrescu barely spares you a second glance as her hands reach up to fill your place. “That will be all. You’re dismissed.” She says.

Straight to the point, just like always. You should have been used to it by now, the coldness with which she spoke to you. And maybe you would have been, if you didn’t know that she was capable of warmth. But you’d seen the way she doted on the maidens that caught her eye, how she spoiled them. Those lucky few were blessed with the privilege of bathing in the inferno of her passion while you barely managed to grasp onto the dying embers. And the scraps that you could get, well, they did little to fill the ever-growing hole in your heart that her indifference fostered. Despite the unceasing pain it brought though, you were certain you’d never stop chasing her affection.

But you are a servant first and a pining fool second, so nodding stiffly, you turn and murmur, “Yes, Mistress.”

With a quick curtsy that you’re sure she doesn’t even see, you spin on your heel and begin to make your way towards the door. The facade drops, having no reason left to hide. Unbidden tears spring in your eyes as the hurt that squeezes your fragile, battered heart begins to crawl up your throat, threatening to choke you with its immensity. The slow, steady pace of your steps gradually increase, becoming erratic as emotion threatens to overwhelm you. By the time you reach the doors, you’re all but running, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of the room.

Your hands hurriedly reach out to grasp the handles, and you yank the doors open only to stop short as you come face to face with another servant. Her own hand hangs in the hair, poised to knock. Momentary surprise flashes across her face, her eyes widening as her lips round into a perfect little o, but she quickly regains her composure. She straightens, attempting to appear confident; however, her clasped, fidgeting hands betray her.

Hesitantly, she raises her eyes to meet yours. She says, “Lady Dimitrescu asked to see me.”

It comes out like a question rather than a statement, but her words nevertheless hit you like a smack to the face. You thought you recognized her, and this is why. She’s the lady’s newest flavor of the month. Day in and day out, they waltz in, having a brief but passionate tryst with the lady. They never last long, barely half a month, and the maidens are often never seen again. Yet the disappearances do nothing to diminish your longing to be chosen. You never are though. In the three years you’ve been at the castle, Lady Dimitrescu has never once looked in your direction, and you doubt she ever will.

As you stand there, staring at the girl who withers beneath your prolonged silence, jealousy rears its ugly head. It crackles down your spine, snarling like a caged beast and urges you to devour the girl before you. Yet it quickly vanishes as rational thought returns, leaving nothing but bleak melancholy in its place. It wasn’t her fault that you were so inadequate. It wasn’t her fault that she’d piqued the lady’s interest, and you hadn’t. She simply suited your mistress’ taste, and you…did not. It was time you accepted that, no matter how much it hurt.

Deflated, you step aside while gesturing for her to come in, and she cautiously does so. She tiptoes past you, obviously still intimidated. You are soon forgotten though. Upon leaving your immediate vicinity, her nerves seem to melt away, for she practically skips over to Lady Dimitrescu.

Remaining rooted to your spot, dread pools in your stomach. You should leave. You need to leave. After all, there is only so much you can take in a single evening. The thought of being forced to bear their affectionate interactions makes you sick.

It takes you a second too long to muster up the courage. The maiden’s voice floats into the air, all lilting tones and cherubic innocence. “You called for me, my lady?”

The change in Lady Dimitrescu is instantaneous. Though you cannot see her, you can hear her: the way her clothes rustle as she stands, the scrape of the chair against the floor, the delight in her voice as she exclaims, “Imogen dear! You’re just in time.” You imagine that the dazzling smile you’d only ever seen directed towards others sits plastered on her face as she stretches out her arms and leans down to embrace her newest lover. The thought of it being true torments you.

The drastic shift pierces you like a dagger to the heart. Stiffening, you keep yourself from turning around, unwilling to subject yourself to the misery of seeing your Mistress happy with someone who isn’t you, and quickly hurry out of the room. This time, the tears do fall as you all but sprint back to your chambers, where you remain for the rest of the night agonizing over why it was never you.

Unbeknownst to you though, Lady Dimitrescu’s eyes stray to your retreating form as she holds her visitor, intense longing all of her own lingering in their depths.

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skyss-personal-hell · 4 months

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GOD IM GAY I LOVE WOMEN RAAAAA (just needed to get that out rq) Anyways here is

Getting Stepped on (Arlecchino)

“Stay down.”

The Knave was atop of your collapsed figure with her sharp heel pressing into your skin almost tearing through.

She had entertained the thought of a duel with you after you had proposed the idea. At first she thought you were nothing but a weakling but that was before you successfully took down The Captain.

The Knave was impressed with your show of strength and allowed you to duel her. Still she was confused as to how you crumbled before her so easily…

“Hmm… I wonder what happened to all that strength…”

Of course she wasn’t stupid, she knew you had been pining after her and every time her face got too close — or god forbid she brought a hand to your throat — you would turn a bright crimson red.

“Such a shame…”

The Knave said as she dug her heel deeper beginning to draw blood under your clothes.

You hissed out in pain as blood began to seep through your button up shirt.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy this you filthy girl.”

Your eyes quickly looked to hers like a deer in headlights.

She knew…?

“It was obvious dear.”

She pulled her foot away and stepped closer before crouching to your level.

“Usually I don’t indulge courtesans, but your looks are quite enchanting so I’ll oblige.”

The Knave smirked and pulled you to your knees, gripping your chin harshly.

“Oh I just love that doe-eyed look you have dear.”

She then kissed you fervidly while trailing her hands to your blouse, unbuttoning it quickly.

You reached you hands to touch her but she immediately slapped it away.

“No touching, harlot.”

You nodded as he continued to undress you. Eventually she pinned your naked form to the cold marble flooring.

“Such a dirty girl, you’re pressed against the ballroom floor by a harbinger yet you’re soaking wet…”

The Knave smirked before pulling your legs apart and bringing her lips to your aching core.

She gave your clit a quick lick before continuing to ravish your trembling form.

“Ah! M—miss!”

She began to laugh against your soaking pussy.

“Arlecchino’s fine dear.”

You started to squirm and whine as she ate you up.

“Arlecchino…! Please!”

The Knave began to suck on your clit while plunging two of her fingers into your aching hole. As soon as she knew you were close she pulled away.

“Wha—! Please…! Please don’t stop…!”

Arlecchino smirked and you could hear her heels clicking against the floor.

“Become my person concubine, and I’ll give you a life of luxury.”

She smiled and watched you consider her proposal.

“I— what does that entail…?”

She smirked and brought your face close to hers.

“I suppose concubine is quite off from your position… I think I’d rather court 𝘮𝘢 𝘤𝘩é𝘳𝘪𝘦.”

The Knave whispered to you a few octaves lower making you more wet. She then brings her mouth to your ear.

“I can show you ecstasy like never before seen.”

“Yes… please…!”

I am so SO sorry this took so long life has been crazy. But i’m here i’m alive and yeah here is fem reader getting stepped on by MOMMY Arlecchino.

#arlecchino #the knave #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #arlechinno genshin #the knave genshin #god i want her #i’m so gay #fem reader #female reader #i’m a lesbian #reader is female #and gay

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pamgkrthwrites · 7 months

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Can you imagine pro hero Bakugou having a very secret personal life. Not private, secret, because he doesn’t even tell his friends that he has married a someone or got her pregnant. The only people that know are his parents and the law.

So when he posts a image on his public instagram of him holding his baby after she was born with his wife beside him, everyone starts calling and spamming him.

What’s worse is that you are also a famous person. Not a hero, but you are also famous for your own industry. In many interviews you have talked about loving your husband and all that stuff so people are surpised your husband is Katsuki Bakugou Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Even after the image got uploaded, in interviews if asked about you or his baby he will change the subject no matter what. He refuses to talk about you. Kirishima has forced him to talk about you to him and their friends, but that’s about it.

And the reason why? He wants you all to himself. Your his and no one else is allowed to touch you. So what if that means no one knows about you? Means no one has to chance to steal you from him.

He is wrapped around his daughter’s finger though. Does everything she asks for.

#mha x reader #x reader #Bakugou x reader #reader is female #tw pregnancy #Bakugo x reader #Katsuki Bakugou x reader #Bakugou Katsuki x reader #Katsuki x reader #Katsuki Bakugo x reader #Bakugo Katsuki x reader

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kimuke · 4 months

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Okay so I got this women loves women Yandere idea that kinda just stuck in my mind so yeah- this is just an idea might work this out more later or smth.

WLW ( woman X woman ) Yandere content^^ But also mentions of MLW ( Male X Woman ) the y/n of this story if written as a female but feel free to change that to you’re own gender.

So hear me out-

Imagine.

You’re a mistress of an married rich ceo whose basically you’re sugar daddy.

You know of the Wife and even befriended her with ill intent.

Unbeknownst to you that the wife knows about the affair between you and her husband

One day you’ve received an text from the husband to meet in private

Only to see his wife in front of you covered in blood holding a bouquet with roses

She smiles at you as she confesses how she killed her husband because of how jealous she was at him for having you for himself without sharing.

[🥀]

#yandere #wlw #yandere wlw #yandere idea #idk how to tag this #yandere post #reader is female #KIMUKE

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scaradooche · 2 months

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Lovesick

Buzzing, buzzing is what you wake up to. More specifically buzzing from your phone. You pick up your phone all drowsy to see someone calling you. “Hm?” you say waiting for the other person on the line to speak.

“Y/n where the fuck are you right now? Lumine says hastily.

“At my house.” You mumble

“Y/n it’s 7:58 am school starts at 8.”

You immediately hang up without saying another word. You rush out of bed dreading the outcome of the day already.

It’s 8:20 am when you get to school. You walk slow trying to delay your arrival to your first class which is Ap physics with one of the worst teachers. Ms. Cordez. Great. You take the time to actually look at the outfit you’re wearing. You’re wearing black sweats with a gray sweater and a white shirt. The outfit you picked out wasn’t that bad for picking random stuff you saw in your room but it wasn’t exactly something you would normally wear. You stopped, you didn’t know why. It was like your mind wasn’t processing anything your body was doing. You pick up your head from looking at the ground to realize that you’re in front of your class. You take a deep breath and enter the classroom.

You’re not even one step in before you here a “Ah, look who decided to show up.”

“Hello..” you mutter trying to make your way to your seat.

“Not so fast young lady, why are you late?” You hear Ms. Cordick Cordez say.

“Overslept..”

“Give me a full sentence.”

“I overslept.” you state clearly getting annoyed of her. Sometimes you wonder to yourself if she actually has a life outside of school. You could never imagine that. There is reason why she’s a Ms. and not a Mrs.

“Do you think that is a full sentence?” she says in a irritated voice. When looking at her face you notice that she looks as red as a lobster. You find the comparison quite funny. If you really think about it she does have facial features that do resemble one.

“Yes.”

“Oh, so you want to give me attitude now?” She says in the most obnoxious way ever. At this point you just think she’s trying to get under your skin.

“What the hell? I’m not-“ you try to speak before Ms. Cordez interrupts you.

“We do not use this kind of language in this classroom.” She speaks with a pissy tone.

‘You’re being dramatic, you need to actually chill it’s not a big deal.”

“You do not tell me to chill. I am not your friend. I am your teacher. You need to learn some manners young lady. Detention after school.”

You give her a blank stare before walking to your seat. What a pleasant start to your day you think.

3:00 pm, school finally ended and you can see people heading out of there classes. Some heading out with their friends most likely having plans since it’s a Friday others just going home. You pull out your phone to text your friends.

You close your phone heading to Ms. Cordicks classroom to spend two hours of your life doing absolutely nothing. When you get there the first thing she has you do is check in and hand her your phone.

“You’ll get this back after you serve your time.”

You nod your head and find a table to sit at. Once you find a desk you bring out a notebook planning to just doodle instead of doing any actual work. Around 5 minutes later you see more students coming in you hope that none of them sit next to you. You never really liked the fact that she had table with chairs instead of just desks. Another 5 minutes later Ms. Cordez decides to speak.

“Seeing that everyone is here, I would like to say that I’m not going to be in the same room with you while you serve your time here. Instead I’ll be in another room with Mrs. Smith grading work together. I assume you won’t leave this room without your phones. I except you all to be doing work for the next two hours.” She’s says hastily before she walks out.

Once she leaves you see friends that were split up start getting up and sitting together. The news that she’s not going to be in this room doesn’t affect you at all. While you’re doodling you hear someone getting up. It doesn’t bother you since a lot of people are getting up right now and changing their seats. It doesn’t bother you until this person sits next to you. You stop doodling and look up at this person to only realize it was him. The kids older brother. Your “boyfriend”. Childe.

Prev||Masterlist||Next 2.5: Fuck you Ms. Cordick

Fun Facts:

Idk how to write accurate detention scenes since I’ve never gotten detention 😝😝😍😍

Idk how to write so don’t mind my bad writing

Ms. Cordez is my irl teacher I hate her sm praying on her downfall everyday 😍

Next chapter will probably be uploaded today and it’s gonna be majority writing 😝 be prepared for more of my bad writing 😍😍🔥🔥

No character fun facts this chapter 😔😞😣 the first half wants to be bold for some reason pls don’t mind it 😓😓

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obsessedtomone · 2 months

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Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 15 - Doll▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤“And to think that all I had to do was take you the way I originally wanted to, huh? Here I thought I’d wait for you to come around,” he exhales and begins sliding your pants down your waist.

“Fuck—Slow down!” you mewl weakly, digging your nails into the rim of your desk and feeling your legs almost buckling under him.

“Like hell I will. I’ve seen your hand now, slut.”◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Very Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ???, Toxic Romance Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Past Child Abuse, Bullying, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) • Eleven • Twelve • Thirteen • Fourteen • Fifteen • Sixteen • Updates every Monday!

Chapter 15 - Doll “Hoooooly fuck! Look at this! Hahaha!” His voice bounced against the walls of the room.

You panic, mentally going through all the options you have in the span of a second.

Unplug the cable to your computer or go for the power button and shut it down.

One of the options being under the desk in the back—and you’re not about to get in dick-sucking position for gamers 101 with him right now—and the latter being hooking your hand over his leg and holding the button pressed before he catches you.

Both options were out of the question, so you pick for option number three, going in to alt+f4 the fuck out of your browser.

As it turns out, your little mental dilemma was completely unnecessary when you realize Shigaraki—as always—is too fucking fast for you, grabbing you by your waist harshly and sitting you down on his lap while promptly restraining your wrists.

“There’s no point closing it. I’ve already skimmed through half of them while you were ignoring me, loser.” He grins, pulling you closer to him and away from the keyboard, while he could still reach and click around. “Don’t squirm too much unless you’re trying to get me hard.”

You think you could die right fucking now and you’d be fine with it.

But then again, weren’t you always?

“Let’s see,” he starts, and you try really hard to get off of him again, unable to bear the fucking shame of what’s to come. “Told you to stop moving, moron. Now pay attention here,” he orders, keeping you close to him. “Oooh, praise kink! You want me to call you my good girl?” Shigaraki coos really close to your ear with a sickly sweet voice and it sets your face on fucking fire, rendering you absolutely speechless.

“Oh my god, you do!” he exclaims, giggling. “What else? Dirty talk, degradation—fucking creampie?! Mmmh, you filthy slut. Should I fill your tight little pussy up with my cum?” he moans obscenely next to you and suddenly you feel way too hot, too fucking embarrased, so you shoot your hand to cover his mouth and wish you could grab the keyboard and beat him to death with it, picturing little bloody keycaps flying all around the room.

Shigaraki wakes you up from your brief coping daydream by licking your palm sloppily in retaliation, immediately grossing you out and making you pull your hand away. You wipe his saliva against his shirt, your body still still going through the after-shocks of repulsion.

When you look at him again, he gives you another one of his half-lidded smirks.

His leg shifts, holding your waist even tighter against his lap and you feel something hard pressing against your ass.

“S-Stop that! Let me go!” you plead, but his arms won’t loosen up.

“Look.” He drags the mouse and highlights a word on your screen. You glance at it and then promptly look the other way, the ugly white paint on the walls of your apartment suddenly being infinitely more interesting. “What does that say? Hm?” He rocks you against him. “Speak, slut.”

“No! Fuck off and let go!” You claw at his hand, scratching and pinching at him to let you go but he doesn’t even flinch.

Instead, he grinds his erection against you again, groaning and nuzzling into your neck—any previous inhibitions about letting you off the hook for now were gone right out of the window.

“My precious little slut is always fucking lying to me,” he says in a sing-song tone, biting the back of your sensitive neck harshly and causing you to whimper. “You fucking freak,” he pants, “Mindbreak? Breeding? You want me to breed you, make you scream on my cock until you can’t even think anymore? Is that it?”

He slides his hand up your back and pushes your shoulder forward and down—hard enough for you to have to bend and grip your desk in order to catch yourself from falling altogether.

“Hahaha,” he laughs darkly, scrolling the website and reading through more of your favorited fucking tags, “Dubcon, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, emotional manipulation—Jesus. Even rape? Holy shit,” he snickers, standing both of you up but keeping you nice and bent for him.

You shudder, making a strangled noise when he thrusts himself against your sex roughly.

“You’re so fucked in the head,” he cackles. “Is that why you provoke me all the fucking time? You want me to get mad? To break you? Make you—ahh, fuck—my own personal cocksleeve?” Shigaraki breathes heavily, bending himself over your back and using one arm around your waist to lift your hips, high enough for him to be perfectly slotted against your backside.

You moaned at the repeated cruel drag of his length against you, the raspy sound of his voice shamefully sending electricity all the way to your clit.

“And to think that all I had to do was take you the way I originally wanted to, huh? Here I thought I’d wait for you to come around,” he exhales and begins sliding your pants down your waist.

“Fuck—Slow down!” you mewl weakly, digging your nails into the rim of your desk and feeling your legs almost buckling under him.

“Like hell I will. I’ve seen your hand now, slut.”

“That doesn’t fucking count! You—You can’t compare fantasy with fucking reality, Shigaraki!” you cry his name out, when you feel him snake his digits below the band of your underwear and sliding two rough fingers against your slit, the pads brushing firmly against your sensitive clit, gliding past it until he reaches your opening and teases it.

He feels the resistance and pushes both of his fingers inside you at once, the sudden stretch feeling really uncomfortable at first. Your back arched in response, hips involuntarily jerking against his hand and he begins lazily fucking his long fingers into your cunt.

“You’re such a fucking liar. Look at how wet you are for me, fuck.” He takes his hand out of your panties, splaying his slick-covered fingers in front of your face and presenting them to you proudly.

Your head turns around, face flustered and you glare at him through glossy eyes as he licks them off, starting all the way from the tips, then pushing them knuckle by knuckle inside of his mouth and making a great show of sucking on them.

Shigaraki’s eyes fluttered closed and he groaned like he’s never tasted anything better before in his life.

And maybe he hasn’t, because to him there was nothing sweeter tasting than victory itself, making you his hard-earned prize.

“What, you wanted some too?” He leans in and whispers huskily, completely drunk on his lust—on you, “Shame, because I don't feel like fucking sharing today.”

Then all of the sudden, his warmth leaves your back and you gasp, immediately feeling yourself missing the contact. You curse at yourself for folding so easily.

He doesn't leave you for long, though, can’t afford to when there’s so much he wants to do to you now.

“Take them off, sit on the chair and spread your legs wide for me,” he commands in a low serious tone, making you feel just how fast your heart was pounding. “I’m going to fucking devour you tonight, slut.”

It briefly crosses your hazy mind to refuse him and run out of the house, never turning back—but you were extremely turned on and… and there’s never been someone so eager to have you the way he does, especially when the electricity between the two of you, among the hatred and the violence, was undeniable.

You, broken enough to let him have his way with you.

Him, fucked up enough to claim you.

It was a line you didn’t want to cross, not with him, not really. But the way your hands had a mind of their own as you reached for the waistband of your pants, sliding them down your thighs while you were watching him palm the outline of his erection through his clothes, told you your answer.

“Hurry the fuck up, before I lose all of my patience and fuck you into the floorboard instead,” he growled, a dark glint in his eyes while he watched you bend over, slowly taking your clothes off like a tease.

And you listen.

You take your pants off in a way it left no room for interpretation on whether or not you wanted this, stumbling back and sitting on your chair, watching his lustful gaze lock in on your hips as you shyly lift your legs up and get into position.

His head was reeling, taking a tentative step forward, watching your reaction before he kneels in front of the chair, grabbing your ankles and rolling you closer to him.

He slides his trembling hands across the surface of your legs, all the way to your waist and hears you gasp when he leans in closer to your heat, the plainest pair of panties covering it with an obvious wet spot in the middle.

“Fuck,” he whispers, intoxicated when he sees your legs trembling in anticipation, his confident streak slightly dampening now that you’re letting him actually have you, submitting to him so naturally. “Such a fucking slut for me, aren’t you?” Shigaraki’s piercing eyes turn to look at yours through dark lashes until his gaze falls on your bitten lip.

“Please, as if you c-could ever get me off,” you challenge and he grins dangerously, feeling warmth spreading inside his chest. He presses his cheek to the cold skin of your thigh and nuzzles it, soft hair tickling you as he peppers you with soft hungry kisses.

You look down at him and feel your mind become hazy, unable to breathe more than shallow breaths, so you slide your hand in his hair and rake your fingers through it, pulling a groan from the depths of his soul, his eyes screwing shut, brows angling downwards, an incredible sight for sore eyes—

Until he fucking bites you.

He bites down on your skin so hard you let out a pained cry, fingers twisting in his white locks, pushing him away but he keeps pressing in until you can’t help but spill hot painful tears, blurring the way his possessive eyes were locked in on yours.

“I-It fucking hurts, please,” you beg, and because it sounds like heaven to his ears, he listens, flattening his tongue and licking the bloody mark he’s left on you, kissing it as if he could nurse it. “W-What the fuck was that for, asshole?” You release the grip on his hair, hooking your other leg atop his shoulder and sniffling when he wraps his arm around it, bringing his face closer to where you wanted it to be.

“A reminder,” Shigaraki states with underlying excitement in his voice. Strong, rough arms pull you closer and your ass partially slides off the seat in the process. He pushes your legs upwards, nodding towards your hands. “Hold them up properly.”

“A reminder,” you repeat, hooking your arms under your thighs and holding yourself up like he’d asked you to, looking away and feeling shame racking through your body as you shrink under his impossibly sinful gaze.

“Tch. Don’t you dare look away from me,” he orders you, low and careful and once again, you listen, swallowing empty and looking back at him.

A deep growl escapes his throat, sitting back on his knees to admire your obedience for him. Your quivering body, teary eyes and a stubborn needy pout, all on display for him to enjoy. Shigaraki leans in and reaches to swipe away at your almost-dried tears with a thumb, bringing it to his mouth and licking it off, watching you with desire and making you pant heavily in anticipation.

“A reminder that you’re mine,” he promises, lowering himself and placing a soft kiss above the waistband of your panties before continuing, “And that I’m in charge now.” He runs his thumb against the already painful wound he’d created and presses his nail into the coppery dent his teeth left behind, making you hiss in pain and your hold falter.

“Keep holding them up,” he warns and you whimper as he goes to kiss and suck in purple marks all over the expanse of your thighs, blatantly ignoring the ache between your legs and your weak moans.

Fucking finally gracing you with some mercy, he hooks his fingers around your panties and slides them off, until they’re only hanging on one ankle. Shigaraki shudders, swallowing hard, now standing and watching you from above like a predator.

You move your hand to cover yourself, but he grabs your wrist and pries it away forcefully. “No you fucking don’t.” He thumbs at your wet slit roughly and you shiver.

After pondering something for a second, he sinks back on his knees and dives right into your cunt, licking a long stripe from your clenching hole to your clit.

You moan brokenly but he doesn’t relent, blunt nails scratching your sides as he eats your pussy sloppily, listening carefully to every noise you make. Your fingers dig into the plastic handle of your seat, free hand finding purchase in his messy white hair once more.

He’s as greedy for your sounds as he seems to enjoy giving, hands sliding to part your lower lips and honing in on the bundle of nerves that seems to make you lose your mind every time he’s flicking his tongue in that particular way.

The barren room echoes with filthy sounds of your cries, his groans and your increasingly wet cunt, muscles in your legs twitching involuntarily and you struggle between keeping a steady position on your chair and giving in to the pleasure.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust, because he dips two of his fingers in and starts finger-fucking you at a brutal pace, one strong arm moving to keep your lower body pinned for him, and judging by the heat pooling in your lower abdomen, you know you won’t last much longer.

His normally rough lips, now softened by your arousal, close around your sensitive clit and it’s him sucking on it roughly, combined with him repeatedly curling both his fingers against your most sensitive spot that does you in. You clench around his fingers hard, locking your thighs around his head and he whimpers against you, fucking you through your orgasm and licking the mess of your climax hungrily.

“Good fucking girl,” he praises when he lifts his mouth with a devilish grin, still rubbing soft circles on you , pumping his fingers lazily and watching you whimper in overstimulation.

“Tongue out,” he commands and you look at him with a half-lidded look. He slips his soaked fingers out of you and smacks your pussy playfully, earning him a moan. “Don’t make me repeat myself, c’mon.”

You whine and open your mouth, tongue peeking out just slightly, when he stands and drapes himself over you, making your heart beat faster.

He places his slick-covered fingers on top of your tongue, pressing down on it for you to open wider, giving you the idea that he wants you to suck on them, but before you can close your lips around them, he spits into your mouth.

“Swallow.” Shigaraki orders and your nose scrunches, but you close your mouth and swallow. “Show me.”

When you do, his face breaks into a creepy smile, sliding his fingers in and forcing you to taste yourself.

“Good, right?” he giggles, voice filled with unrestrained giddiness and you roll your tongue over his fingers, giving him more than he asked for. His jaw falls slack and he stares at the fingers in your mouth, taking them out and leaning in to replace them with his moistened cracked lips instead.

The kiss is sloppy, hungry, wet and messy. Shigaraki wasn’t kissing you, he was devouring you, and every time you pulled away for air, his mouth would follow yours, his hands gripping the handles of your chair and pushing you until the backrest is pressed firmly against the wall where he has you caged in.

You groan into his mouth in complaint and he finally breaks the kiss, your lungs filling with delicious oxygen once again.

When you glance down, you see a string of saliva connecting you two, lips shiny, mixed with both your wetness and his own spit. He looks dazed, eyes clouded as he breathes in deeply. Breathes you in deeply and he finds that it’s not enough, he wants to have you, all of you, all at once.

“I’d love to shove my cock down your throat and fuck your face right about now,” he whispers low, corners of his mouth turning up in a smirk, hand reaching down to rub more circles around your clit and you shudder. “But that’s for next time.”

Next time?

“Look at you. You’re a fucking mess,” he muses, kissing your cheek softly—too softly—and you frown, getting ready to bitch at him.

He sees it and pinches your bundle of nerves harshly making you whine again, “Ah–ah. Don’t give me an attitude now. Come on, get up.” He slides his hand to your hips and squeezes, using his other one to grab your wrist and hoist you out of the chair. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

Your eyes fall on the tent in his pants and you can almost feel him stretching you out with how painfully hard he looked, length lined down his left leg.

Before he could push you along, you reach and run your curious fingers across the bulge, feeling your chest flutter with strange butterflies.

It takes him by surprise and his whole body shakes, knees trembling and he slaps your hand away as he scrambles to hold himself up against the desk, eyes blown wide and breaths coming out heavy.

No fucking way. That sensitive?

You smile deviously and he glares at you.

“D-Don’t fucking do that, I almost—ugh, just move!” he grumbles defensively, grabbing your shoulder, turning you around and shoving you forward.

Fuck, that was hot.

You find yourself wondering again if he’s done this with other people like he seems to have had.

You might’ve thought he was a virgin before, but how could he be with the way he acts? How many men have you met to be confidently inexperienced before? How many of them actually cared to get you off?

Fucking zero, that’s how many.

There wasn’t time to ask, because you suddenly heard the front door slam shut behind the two of you, followed by a violent thud of Taylor’s paper grocery bag spilling against your floor.

Eyes wide, you fumble to pull your shirt down, trying to cover yourself and frantically picking up your clothes. You sober up immediately, realizing you were about to let Shigaraki Tomura fuck you stupid tonight—part of you disappointed not at yourself but… at the prospect of it not happening.

You look at your friend, feeling deeply ashamed and then at him who was already running a hand through his hair, huffing irritatedly at the unwanted interruption.

So fucking close, he thinks. Tomura really wanted to rip your friend’s fucking head off.

“What the fuck do you two think you’re fucking doing?” They stomped forward, absolutely fuming.

“Get the fuck out. Can’t you see we’re busy?” he snaps back, reaching to hook his arm possessively around your waist and pushing your body flush against his own. You smacked at his chest to let you go, cursing him repeatedly, but he wasn’t paying attention, opting to cautiously eye your friend’s presence instead.

“Like hell you are!” Your friend yanks him by the collar of his shirt and pries him away from you. “Think I forgot the shit you pulled at the party, creep?!”

Anger flashes across his face and he’s not beyond beating the fuck out of your friend for so much as daring to touch him—but he knew that doing it would set things back with you.

Tomura really fucking liked the new stage of this relationship he’s unlocked with you, and he wasn’t going to let his temper ruin it for him this time.

You however were none the wiser.

So you cut right in the fucking middle when Taylor decided to hit him, the only person ending up getting slapped by unnecessarily expensive acrylics being you.

“Ow—fuck!” You glare at your friend, who looked absolutely mortified. Shigaraki scrambles to assess the damage and your friend is already tearing up and apologizing, both of them immediately crowding you.

“Get. Out. Both of you. Now,” you whisper angrily, prompting them to give each other a death stare. “I want to be alone, so—fucking please.”

To your surprise, they both (very reluctantly) back off.

Shigaraki, who looked defeated, made an odd sound of disapproval, grabbed his shit and angrily stormed out first.

Taylor on the other hand lingered, trying to pry, to apologize, to ask why you didn’t answer their texts all week, but you were only able to snap back and make them cry harder.

When everyone finally left you the fuck alone, you began breaking down, absolutely burnt out by this horrible series of events happening in your life.

You throw yourself on your bed, and realize you’re still able to smell his soft lingering scent against your bedding. And if that wasn’t bad enough, you also realize he forgot his fucking hoodie at your place.

Why the fuck were you about to let Shigaraki have his way with you earlier?

Why did you listen to him? Were you that fucking sexually deprived to let another psycho fuck you?

They were questions you could not fucking answer, not when you know that you’re falling right into his trap.

So you pull his hoodie over your head and inhale deeply into the collar.

Then you proceed to replay the earlier events in your head and do something you swear you’ll take to the grave with you. ───────── The following days, including your whole weekend, were completely Shigaraki-free. That meant you got to study your ass off for your exam week and you didn’t have to deal with him at all after the incident.

You didn’t speak to Taylor either, and Taylor avoided you like the fucking plague.

It was fair in a way that you didn’t like to admit.

You deserved it. You were a shit friend. So now you’re studying in the main cafeteria at lunchtime, when he casually slips into the seat next to yours with a tray of food in his hands.

He pushes a box of juice to you and you stare at it.

“Hey,” he rasped, dragging his chair to be as close to yours as humanly possible, seemingly nothing changing in his Shigaraki branded demeanor during the few days that he went MIA.

You clicked your tongue but didn’t reply otherwise, deciding to completely ignore him instead.

So he does what you should’ve expected he’d do and grabs the spoon on his tray, angling it perfectly in your direction and flicking a disgusting wet fucking pea at your face.

It hits you, falling on your rented notebook and fucking stains it.

“HEY! I have an exam in an hour and this is a fucking rental! Cut it out, dickhead!” you snap at him, wiping your face with a grimace but he only smiles.

“There we go! Was worried you forgot how to speak.”

“My god, you’re seriously the worst fucking asshole on this planet, I swear.” You snarl when you look at him.

“So they say.” His lips curve upwards.

Shigaraki lets you be for a minute and starts eating his lunch, but notices—because he’s always observing you—how deep the circles around your eyes are, figuring you haven’t been able to sleep much lately.

“You look like a zombie. Did’ya miss me so much you couldn’t even fall asleep?” he asks in an upbeat tone, elbowing your side and making you mess up the words you were writing. Then he snorts at the way you clutched your pencil tighter in irritation.

“Drop it,” you hiss, feeling more on edge than usual.

None of the information you’re forcing yourself to fucking remember is sticking to your brain. This never happened before and it really, really unnerved you. You’re not allowed to slack off. You can’t afford to slack off.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

“What the fuck is wrong with you today?” He leans into you, becoming genuinely concerned. You snap your head at him, looking livid.

Feeling already fed up, you grab your stuff hastily and stand up.

He, of course, has none of your fucking bullshit and forcefully grabs your arm, pulling you back down.

“Sit. I won’t ask twice,” he warns coldly, clenching his jaw.

The look you gave him was one of defeat, so you crumple your study notes and then aggressively drop your bag on the table, half of its contents landing on the floor together with the box of juice he shared with you.

Your lips started quivering and you rubbed at your eyes.

“The fuck you so pissy for? Are you on your period or something?”

You deliberately ignore him again and he grunts, choosing to grab you by the roots of your hair really hard and making you gasp. “Fucking try ignoring me again, bitch,” he spits at you, eyes full of contempt and feeling betrayed that you reverted back to treating him like shit.

There were a lot of students looking at you whenever you were together, because Shigaraki had a reputation—and by extension, so did you.

But you felt that him being openly violent with you right now and in public of all places, pushed you too fucking far in this moment.

Academic stress.

Mind games.

Fighting with your best friend.

Feeling lonely.

Wanting to die.

Wanting to die so bad it suffocated you. The thread snaps and the tower of your sorrows finally topples over, crashing over the entirety of your soul, the acid raindrops of all the emotions you’ve been suppressing this entire time raining on your consciousness until all you could feel was nothing. You can’t focus on your studies.

Can’t handle their attention.

Can’t do this anymore.

So maybe you should—

Just obey. ”You don’t have to think about anything else other than how to please me, bunny. Do you understand me?”

SPANK— “Yes, Sir.”

He lets go of your hair almost immediately, red eyes widening and you lower your gaze like you’ve been taught to do. “The fuck did you say to me?”

“My apologies, Sir,” you reply robotically. “Would you prefer I called you Master or Daddy instead, Sir?” Tomura’s brain short-circuited. Was this another one of your weird fucking games?

He glared into your eyes and could only find a dull submissive look in return.

“What is wrong with you?” He frowns, voice wavering.

“I’m extremely sorry, I do not understand the question, Sir. Could you please explain?”

He runs a hand over his face and scrunches his eyes shut.

“What is this—What the fuck are you doing right now?” He uses his pointing finger and circles it at you.

You just stare at the floor.

“Answer me, moron.”

“My apologies, Sir.”

“Stop calling me that. Explain what’s going on.”

“I’m just your dumb slutty bunny, Sir. I’m yours to have, yours to breed, yours to break,” you say and he almost has a fucking brain aneurysm at how willingly you’re humiliating yourself.

Did you seriously completely fucking break—right here? Like this? In the middle of the fucking cafeteria?

Not in the bedroom where he’d be making you scream his name until your throat was sore and you couldn’t speak anymore? Not by you provoking him and him having to put you in your place, but because of him getting annoyed with you once today?

It was an opportunity too good to pass up.

Tomura’s grin spread wide, resolving to immediately test this newfound control over you, feeling excitement bubbling in his gut at the prospect of you finally becoming an ideal toy, accepting him fully.

How far would you go, he wondered.

“Get on your knees and under the table. Now,” he barked at you—and to his surprise, there really was no bratty remark, no comeback, no hesitation.

You stood up, got on your knees and slipped under the cafeteria table, keeling all over the disgusting floor and still avoiding his gaze submissively.

“Look at me.” Shigaraki snarled and you obeyed, eyes distant and devoid of any expression.

The students were catching on, whispering in the background. You waited patiently for his next command, blankly looking up at him through your lashes.

“Tch. Give me your hand.” And you did, without any resemblance of your usual resistance.

He grabbed it for you and pressed it flat against his semi-hardening cock. “Now go ahead and fucking use it. Show them what a dumb bitch you are,” he orders, looking down at you coldly. You do as he says and start stroking it the way you were taught to—not the way you were with him that evening, eager and curious, but trained, expertly wrapping your digits around the rising tent in his pants and stroking against the fabric. It wasn’t the same.

It did fucking nothing for him.

There was no trace of the sparks he felt in the pit of his stomach every other time he’s made you squirm before. Every other time you made him squirm.

Instead, he felt hollow. “So fucking useless,” he hisses, covering your hand with his own and pressing it harder, rocking his hips against your palm and feeling incredibly frustrated when it only seemed to have the opposite effect on him.

It pissed him off how you weren’t worried about catching a sex offender case anymore. It also pissed him off that he can’t even enjoy this half-assed victory.

You were looking at him in a daze, but not the daze that betrayed how much you wanted him to fuck you—how much you wanted him in the hallway when you had him pinned under you. How your eyes sparked with flickers of desire he saw in-between your apprehension or even fear, at the party. How wet you were last week at your place, bent over your desk and soaking just for him. How he almost got to feel the warm fluttery insides of your cunt and finally made you his.

God were you hot, every single time.

Instead, you were now staring through him and mindlessly following dumb orders like a brain dead fucking sex doll. He somehow used a cheat code to break you like he’d always fantasized to in the beginning.

But isn’t this exactly what he wanted?

Is it fucking not?

Wouldn’t it be great for you to leave every decision in your life to him?

So then—

SO THEN WHY THE FUCK WAS HE FEELING THIS WAY?

Like he’s made a huge fucking mistake. Again. Tomura swallowed hard, unable to keep the inner turmoil at bay. His shoulders became tense, his free hand scratching red angry lines against the scarred skin of his neck.

“Fuck!” He slapped your hand away and you just stared back. “STOP looking at me like that, dirty fucking whore!” he yelled at your face, voice cracking. You look down at his feet again. “Apologies, Master. Please feel free to punish—”

“NO! FUCK! Don’t EVER fucking call me that again!” He grabs you by your arm before you could finish your stupid fucking sentence, roughly pulling you off the filthy floor and knocking the chair out of the way for you.

He takes your bag and chaotically shoves all of your things inside of it, together with the stuff that spilled on the floor earlier.

Tomura throws it over his shoulder along with his own and shoves you forward. “Walk.”

Useless NPCs gathered around for the theatrics, but he was having none of it.

“If any of this comes out, I’ll fucking kill every—single—one—of you. Am I clear?” He turns around and barks at the circle of idiots that surrounded the two of you, gawking and recording the scene like they usually did whenever Shigaraki publicly did something unhinged to someone on campus.

The only difference was, that this is the first time he’d ever shut it down, taking everyone in question by surprise.

“Am I FUCKING clear?!” his voice booms again, as he’s grabbing one of the chairs in a fit of rage and smashes it repeatedly against the floor, plastic parts flying in all directions from the impact and throwing whatever chunk was left of it at a random cluster of individuals.

He then fixed a piercing gaze at the room, waiting expectantly while breathing erratically.

Some of them were frozen and nodded quickly but most had already hurried off. Fuck.

Everything was so fucking itchy and all of it was your fucking fault.

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